I wish I penned him with ink,
Now, but never when our hearts sync,
Or When, I thought ours did,
Too bad, I tattooed him to my heart!
I wish I had composed our story with fingers,
Now! Not when I dreamt as life lingers,
And when I thought it was all together,
At least he said so, never saw the pun nether.
And now it's just me with the link,
I can not seem to forget our lip sync,
I thought it was the matter of hearts,
A heart it was- mine; now it's inked but in parts.
YOU ARE READING
Khamoshiyaan
PoetryTHE VOICE OF SILENCE. Sometimes silence describes a situation far better than words ever will, Sometimes a strange set of words describe paints it years later; The limits are set and broken by the words , The reticence ,muteness and reserve let out...
