Poem: Envious Witch

By: Aftab Yusuf Shaikh

mirror looking

Who is this woman
in the mirror that
looks back with discern?
So what if she had in a life
too many heartbreaks for
one four roomed heart,
why does she look at my beauty
with contempt,
envious witch!
You say this is me?
Was I dust or
those nights and evening were
those joys and grieves
agonies and longings,
idle afternoons and
crippled memories- were
they dust too, Going by the manner in which
they withered off the
attire of my being.
Bring me a mirror from that
evening, which fooled me into
believing it will never end.
Or at least, tell a lie to my face,
I need my vanity back again
for a moment before I die.

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