Burnt Memories Poem by Puja Chakraborty

In the smell of burnt memories,
in the melodious cooking,
In the smell of sweet rice,
in this high direction,
with you, I only want an evening.

Burned by nicotine, fear of losing you,
in the viral fever, I want to cling to you.

Everything, You can resume,
You are my comfortable shoulder,
my scent of perfume.

Like a dry leaf in a corner of the yard,
I want to hear some love words.
In the scent of jasmine,
I can believe you are only mine.