Thick grey clouds
Swirl in the wind
Thunder over houses
And disappear
Without a trace
With empty promises
And no rain.

This krishna of mine
Also promises me peace
Shows me his soul
Coaxes my laughter
Makes me believe
Then suddenly sulks, disappears
The stubborn, petulant child.

The thick grey clouds
Ignore our parched soil
But pour over lands
That need water the least.
And my lying child
Will later assert
That his disappearance
Was for my deliverance.


About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
This entry was posted in Blue Funk, Idle Thoughts, Intoxication Induced. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Liar

  1. Ch4 says:

    Where have your earlier poems to Krishna disappeared?


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