Wistful Trash Can

The door that you never opened

and the door that I never closed

opens up the vault of abyss

that traps the echoes of past

loneliness of present and

longings of future into a colloidal

amalgam of  a ketchup

squeezed into a trash can.

The book that you never read

and the book that I never wrote

creates a fiction of memory

with a narrative of error where

Satan and God trade their

places and saints and sinners tear

away the pages which are

dumped into a trash can.

The song that you never listened

and the song that I never sang

plays a melody of emotion with

the destructive beat of drums

which forays into heartache

that lumbers to and fro

resonating the din of

slamming into a trash can

The road that you never took

and the road that I never left

led into a meandering trail of

misty forest where sun hid

under the canopy and the darkness

opened into the glade of deception

packaged in a wrapper of garbage

thrown into a trash can

The words that you never heard

and the words I never spoke

Recited a poetry of comedy

with vision of paradise whose gates

adorned by the warning sign

beware of dog scribbled on

the tarnished tin plate

corroded into a trash can

The door that you never opened

and the door that I never closed

opens up the vault of abyss

that traps the echoes of past

loneliness of present and

longings of future into a colloidal

amalgam of  a ketchup

squeezed Into a trash can.