I keep sketching your face,
On the corner of my last page.
I draw,
I erase.
I give your face a dark shade.
I fill in some lines in your forehead,
Wide enough to walk on them.
I create a bridge between your eyes,
Strong enough to hold me whenever I cry.
I come down, to draw the smile on your face,
You look sad; I increase my pace.
I still make the smile go up,
Ear to ear,
Long enough to carry the length of every forgotten memoir.
I erase,
I erase everything.
I erase you from my memory,
It's been going on since about a century?
Now there's only me.


© Dishashree Swain

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