She had been suffering,

The broken relationships under the cracked memoirs

Bones almost plundered

With the fearful hopes, anxious, doubtful all the way

 

So I slowed down a little bit,

With fragments of kisses

With delicate touches of makeover trials

With the letters denote something like love or etc.

 

Smell of nights, music of movements

Written poems underneath

Like few lonely stars and cupboard stories of heavenly bodies,

Not so useful yet essential for the time being.

                                 

So she lifted her pale blue eyes

Like men on wary lands, painful yet with some remote dreams

With folded arms and keeping space between;

Not for me, but to remember her story still.

 

Written By NilavroNill Shoovro