16 MAY 2017 AT 3:25

The door was open.
Bare and true, she stood there, calm and composed.
She stared into eternity, as her loose tresses caressed
the contours of her cheek, smudged with traces of powdery white,
probably the leftovers of regret, love, vengeance and abandonment,
that oozed out through the salty drains of blind rage,
bled by weight of loneliness, dried by the winds of closure.

The door has never opened since.
Sometimes, tears drain more than just your sorrow.


- AbhiN