Forgetting... elegy

Photo by kittenfc

The call you didn’t receive
The call you didn’t make back
Still haunts me at night…
I type your number and erase it all
I still wait for your call…

I gaze at the stars in silent nights
It’s the same sky we do share
You are somewhere there under this sky
Maybe gazing at that same star…

A part of your soul still lives in me
I hold my breath to hear your voice
Emptiness speaks it all
There’s nothing left to recall
It’s the part of your soul that keeps me alive
It’s the pain I bear all these years
It’s the tale of thousand sleepless nights
It’s those tears spent in vain
It’s a part of your soul that lives in me

In every night I wish to dream
In every morning I want it break
I’ve lost the link between life and dream…

The dream I build, the words we talk
Do you remember it or not??
I fill my heart with stupid dreams
Of getting you back
That part of your soul haunts me at night
That part of your soul never lets me sleep
That part of your soul don’t let me smile
It’s a part of my life that keeps me dead….

The phone rings all alone in an empty room
The night goes alone by, all of it, all
A part of my soul still waits for you
In nights that wait for dawns…

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of


Forgetting short poem

What was about this face? Between mirage and actuality? A fireball was coming towards you. You upturn the underside, wanted to taste the blood and get argasm. The statues were posing nude. Mothers were clad in leaves. Fruits were the


Forgetting long poem

Let’s paint these walls red, With the blood of our dead. Of the lost and wounded, the sad and depressed. Let’s paint that chair green, With the leaves of the trees. The trees cut down, every day, week, month, year.


Forgetting long poem

  (love is so short, forgetting is so long. –    pablo neruda) Thought I had sent you on the back of a river, away, away, to distant valleys. Thought I had sent you on the back of a cloud, away,

On the verge of forgetting.

On the verge of forgetting. short poem

Somewhere in a dusty corner lies a memory of you. Neatly folded into a perfect square. Tucked away precariously amongst identical pages of denial. Sometimes, it threatens to burst into flames. But layers of conceit (both yours and mine) douse