Looking At My Scars Of Wrists, Her Eyes Showed Sympathy.



When She Felt The Scars Of My Heart, She Became Empathetic.

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Wrists are for bracelets
Not for cutting

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You twirl my wrists,
and we dance on stardust,
until that unhallowed day,
when you twirled my wrists,
and my hopes turned to rust,
I forgot everything that was gay.

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As if Time has stopped ticking, for me.
I still dwell in your memory.
The best pair of mirror, where I loved
seeing my reflection, are stolen.
The once talkitive girl, is now but silent.
Tears no more come to rescue the burden,
sedatives are the only known friends.

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If I were bangles,
I would rejoice men
with my jingling noises,
I would touch tender
and soft wrists of women ,
I would make their
wrists colorful with my colorful appearance.

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