The Last Bite

An artist best works when she’s happy

Well, the her in me, is no more, for

The Last morsel in over

Creations clumsy, dripping down like rain.

Same is going to be for her both dawn and dusk;

The shine of the morning star and the shimmer of the morning dew

Streaks of yellow or a strip of lavender makes

No more a difference to me

Should I see tomorrow?

If so, will I stand up in it prominent?

‘cause the energy in me is no longer remained

Why am I the chosen one to feel

all this pain and anguish?

A blur of the vision, a pierce in the heart,

A shrink of the body and the faint of the soul

I shouldn’t have had it, that final one, for

It would have been there for me till the end

Giving me all the morale that I needed

– THAT absolute Last Bite.