I lie in silence looking at the ceiling
You too lie in silence, sinews taut
Our fingers crave for the touch
But they fall short, miserably short
Something prohibits, prevents
Egos feeding hesitation
Wrong-right, right-wrong
The hurt-laden unanswered question
Seconds tick, sighs grow deep
The heart swells with grief and pain
Moments lost, treasured, precious
At whose cost, whose gain
The little duels chip away
Slowly, surely, steadily
While we play this stupid game
Of win-lose, lose-win eternally
Subir Chakraborty / 16th Feb 2018
poetryforthesoul2018.com 
I have not read Anna Karenina of Tolstoy. But I remember the famous opening sentence of this great novel. All happy families are equal, but each unhappy family is different. That’s the strange quality of poetry. It evokes emotion which may not be predictable.
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