An Untold Story

Painted Canvasses without blood
The desires dried dripping

Poured on demon like floors
Couldn’t devour the soul

The paints screamed for a wall
When kerosene washed them away

Brushes lie on the stained cotton
Looking at the easel in the corner

Silks stacked away, a story of life
Painted in crimson, clear blue

Incomplete it rested
Complimenting rags shoved in the carton

It only looked like she did not care
Neither did she look back once,

As her life was on a run, yearning
Meaning and fun, in wrong places

Years passed away, not realising
Once best friends were peeping, calling

Attention, care and caresses
Ready to be used up and thrown

So they could get a home
On the incomplete canvasses

Waiting to complete the story untold
A place where they truly belonged

*If my incomplete paintings, and the paints had feelings, they’d be really missing me*

Pooja Alok
Twitter: @poojaavj