Alive

By Samyasathi Mukherjee

Taken for granted, the laments of desire,

you burn the letters each, in an enchant fire,

I walk alive over the bridge you built with no

fences,

I talk with death of dead romances.

Taken for granted my letters “from a liar”

I burn alive in another living pyre.

By Samyasathi Mukherjee