Midnight Secrets - Pooja Srivastava (Poetry)

Pooja Sriastava creates a truly magical sense of wonder with this poem, both intriguing and beautifully woven.


As I tip-toed in the house, I saw the silver vase placed on the shelf, It shone as the reflection of my soul, Delving, maybe a little too deep, into my secrets, And then it shivered and fell on floor, Fatally turning itself into flairs of ash, Without burning but subliming into gold, I looked at it and it blatantly sparkled, As if I wasn't its owner that it ought to fear from, Or that it was mocking at me releasing itself from the shudder that killed it, I took off my sandals and looked at the shelf which was now empty, I thought to myself, "Is it a good place to showcase my heart, Or perhaps, let me adorn it with books," But what if they also burned themselves peeping into my soul, Seizing their right, righteously from me, And my right to enter my own home in fear, That what if they revealed to you, As your faithful slaves burning themselves into ashes, To proclaim to you that yes it was midnight, And I have been leaving home every night, In the arms of my new lover, The new lover, which is not you.


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