Prose

Amin Rastar
PROFILE About me Poetry (6) Prose (1)


29 december 2013

The End of My Story..

At the end of my story
We would not live happily ever after..
At the end of my story
I picture you
Going with another guy
Hand in hand
Arm in arm..
And I picture myself
Lonely and sad
Half-naked, on the beach,
And look
Wind is coming,
Hooh, it's cold!
Look at the sky,
It seems as if it's getting purple

It's getting dark..
And it's already raining, I feel
Thank god I've still got the fire,
And my hot cup of tea..!


Where's my book of poems?
Ha! I remember. I should have ignited the fire somehow..
Let me recall..
I remember
It was a story
Written in the form of heroic couplets
And guess what,
I was the hero,
or anti-hero? :-?
Should heroic couplets have heroes at all?
I doubt :-?
Dunno, anyway..
I'm still trying to recall those parts
I wrote for you..
Yeah I'm trying

Hah!
Look who's here
She, I mean you..
Came out for a walk near the sea, huh?
It's getting cold dear,

Why isn't she wearing warm clothes? :-?
 
Isn't she beautiful..?
Yeah.. well..
Ok!

You see me,
Like always you turn your head
As if such man never existed
As if such love was never expresst..

You see me,
And you suddenly decide to hold his arm even more tightly
You pass..

And there's fog coming,
See,
What I always loved
A lonely man, beach, fire, rain, tea, fog, a book of poetry..
What?
Yeah, I burnt it, I know, I know..
But yet I can recall some of the poems, look:


                  Shall Flowers to thy fairness jealous be?
                  Ah yes, in thee all graces one can see.
                  My little heart, thou hast robbed of repose,
                  In fairness thou, in faith, outbid the Rose;
                  N..
 


It is either that I left the poem unfinished
Or I can't remember the rest..!
But I remember it was an acrostic written upon your name..!
So Petrarchan, isn't it?
So easy..
Anyhow

Yeah, I was saying, whatever I loved I have here:
-Fog, that is blinding my sight

-Loneliness, that is killing my heart
Droughting the fountain of my sentiment!
Wait, I remembered a song:
There's a drought at the fountain of youth, and now I'm dehydrating..
Poof!
Bullshit!
True but who dares to face the truth?
I think life is a set of..
Ha?
Yeah, I know, tired of these philosophical babblings..!
What I was sayin?
Ha!

-Fire, not enough to warm up my inner coldness
-Tea, bitter, shit, what is this?!
-A book of poetry, hah! burnt and lost
-A love, frittering away, way, ay, y ..
-And you, you, you.. you that never finish..
I can never think bad of you

I can only picture you
Going with this another guy
Happy, gay
Joyful
Lively
And of course with no me..
I picture you,
Going,
Vanishing in the fog..
I picture you..
And I remember this:
 
 
                        There light clouds spread, heaping up spun cotton;
                        See next "a huge snake", then "a strong lion";
                        Again, behold "a couple locked in love"
                        All vanish, at last, in the vapoury sky..

                                                                                                -Swami Vivekananda

                                                                                              
Ah! yeah
I have always pictured you
Pictured your lips
Your voice
Your face
Your body
Your grace..
Your childish acts
Your everything
I have even pictured how you would say:
"I don't love you"
To my face,
And I'd love to see your lips, if I could
Even saying this..

Yeah, whatever..!
What is the prize of a man who always pictures?

Sea, darkness, fog, cold air, fire, rain, loneliness, love, grief, tea and his lost book of poetry..!

I picture my end to be like this..

Beautiful, nope?!

                                         All vanish, at last, in the vapoury sky..

                                                                                             




other prose: The End of My Story..,

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