4 AM conversation with ghosts of old lovers

Resemblance to the ghost of your being.
He is flesh and bones, only flesh and bones
and I stare at him, bewildered.
His eyes are amber, the color of tree resin,
volcano spitting passion,
the blood reeks of loss.
"Hello, good old friend.
Where have you been all these years?" I ask him
and I watch, as the recognition fades away from his face,
it is swallowed in dark thickening cracks,
like the claws of earth swallows all the life
sustained on its face and I stare
at his ash struck face.
I am waiting alone at Purana Qila,
and the sky is crying empty tears.
Suddenly, I am in a crowded street,
beggar children are caressing my hair,
weeping for me.

(c) Ayushee Ghoshal