Backwash

When adulthood hits you hard and you realize there are things even Coldplay songs can't fix. Only a backwash would help...
( This poem involves a bundle of imagery, so read it slowly , delighting in every action described)

I tore some pages of the book from which you read me your favorite fable

and rolled them to smoke the pot of memories left by you near the table.

I snuffed out the candle that made you look subtle,

and took a high in the dark at the whiff of afterthoughts left by you at the scuttle.

I walked to the cusp of yearning abandoned by you at my window sill

and watched your universe skittering against mine drop by drop.

I collected your impressions, tantrums and every noxious speech;

Kept them into sealed jars and slapped a label on each.

Just so that you could see which ones were impolite, wild, raw and rotten.

Also there are unread messages which you might have forgotten.

I didn't just lit the fireplace,

I set it ablaze and incinerated all your thoughts there.

I stabbed the pillows lying on the corner couch and let your musk escape anywhere.

I disgusted at your picture, like we do at the food that is bland.

Yes, now I ignore your messages

like the news of active volcano in a distant land.

Backwash. (verb)..reversing the flow