The Curator / Poem by NilavroNill Shoovro

Poem by NilavroNill Shoovro


The Curator

Dead souls of rejected stuffs
Around everyday grief
Stunned, remain silent…

Within the timescales
Of private histories
None are confident…

Forbidden smell of
The secret dreams
Keeps the night busy

Those pains- hiding
In recluse, only know
The truth of love

Now within my eyes
I can see her through
Like an idiot in love

Like a phantom
Roaming around
I dive into the wounds

Like the curator
I work hard in the museum
Of forlorn memories

Like the dead souls
I pray, beside her footprints
Time circles around…

17th June ‘2020

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