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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