Water stirred, bloom whisper in a weird mannerism—
Laugh, scoff, mock as you may, there's little bit
comfort in knowingly face, that lies in moulding
trim, all silent—equivalent— distressed syllables
stressed out, cold, harsh wind, slapping hard
at man's distress, rustled by the cinematic breath—
never passed between two objects, for the lips—
uttered: a name, that lingers still, echoes louder
than a summer breeze, while dreams passed out
by seconds, I'm watching, watching for a lingering
potion, a mother, wetting her child's forehead—
in feverish night, for a fickle of mirrored nightstands
prayers paid off in huge debt—
Waiting, watching, yearning for shades in grains,
Leaves rustle once again, her voice: quivering in pain.
— 23rd September, 2023
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PoetryFeatured on @WattpadPoetry / 16.04.2023 ❝ sometimes we find the words, yet somewhere they find us, together we dive into the ocean, unknown to the world, unaware of the uncertainty ❞ ━━━━━━━━━━━ n e w poems are always added in the beginning. Q u...