Illusion of You
She was nothing but a “Bhrom”,
a soft, addictive “Moho” I couldn’t escape.
I carried her like a silent “Neshar Bojha”,
thinking she was my only “Amar Shotto”, my lost “Purnota”.
But all I hold now are torn pieces—“Shritir Chera Pata”,
memories that bleed every time I turn the page.
I gave her my pure “60s Love”,
let her live inside my endless “Oniket Prantor”.
And in return—she left me with “Dhushor Somoy”,
where I learned the art of “Dukkho Bilash” alone.
Now I stand still in my own “Obosthan”,
while she drifts away like “Onno Groher Chand”.
My sky holds a “Khoye Jawa Chaad”,
dim, distant, never mine again.
Still, a part of me whispers—“Jodi Abar”…
But the truth cuts deeper than silence—
“Tumi nei” would’ve been easier,
because “Tumi chilena kokhonoi” hits different…
© NILOY SHOUVIC ROY

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