Fiction & Poetry, horror, Poems, Poetry

A Red Dying Autumn

These wretched windows :
the sweet transparent eyes
for this world, shatter with a brief touch.
An ache develops itself,
and spreads vehemently.
There is no reason to it.
Not that I remember.

A leaf discolors to red.
My cigarettes now end prematurely.
an ancestral curse, somehow broken.
This drink is a decade, swallow it patiently.
for the fire it sprinkles on the insides,
is a catharsis for the unexpected longing.

The dying sun leaks of love,
The dreams turn irresistibly haunting.
Come O Winter,
relinquish your malice over warm touch.
Once and forever.
There is no reason to it.


– Shashank Bhardwaj

Standard