Photograph

A part of me,
Stares in awe-
At the photographs,
Remembering the tangled.
Disbelief at suspension ;
Mesmerized by the meanders.
A wry smile suffuses,
Humor mustn't be lost.
Specially if its self-inflicted.
So should I question myself now?
The voluntary blindness that
I had sought refuge at?
Must I berate myself to my self-degradation,
Degenerate into a composite waste ?
I reach across,
To tear away the cobwebs-
That cloud my vision now.
In my ears ,
The banshee sings out  loud-
The words heard.
The words drilled in thus.
With the photographs,
Have died a lot of dreams.
A lot of me too.
The answers to questions,
Only bring despair.
As truth begets truth,
It negates efforts to search
For meanings not truly there.
The erstwhile peace,
Now steals over me like a disease.
Truly, we had no love-
But a beautiful deceit.
It seems, we were never united-
To be divided now.
What we had had-
Was just a dream.
 I've found visions of many things that never have been
Adrift in memories and your specter behind me.
And now I feel free of the misleading nectar,
Of your lies - and the folly in my sweet surrender.
Affirmation is supreme,
In my way to glory-
Sans an effigy of you-
That is fast receding.