• Rahul Mahesh

PARAMOUR

The room smells of you,

Spent with cigarette buds and ash.

The chairs are dusty,

The floors no longer creak of life.

The light stays on at night,

In hope of some unexpected visitor.

The corridor is now silent,

Save the noise of wanton creatures.

I dreamt a sombre dream of you,

As I lay on the creak-less floors.

I dreamt of your footsteps, I dreamt of you;

Not too long ago, over some whimsical thought.

But for all I know and must confess,

Like all dreams go, this too shall pass.

Like some obscure boat,

On the tempestuous shores.

The room is all too quiet now,

The lights have lost its source.

What you were and what you shall be,

Nothing but memories of some grieving paramour.

Featured Image: https://pin.it/nwhu7kphsngvom

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Rahul Mahesh.Writer.Portfolio. Mumbai. 

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