May I know, What you want me to see, Inside my heart, There is this solid plea, For once again, Please let me be free, I wanna live all, Once again, For that, Can thee let me be..
Scrounging my memories, the mind of mine often asks my heart why it didn't love itself the way it loved you. May be then, it would be able to utter some hymns of unresolved love rather than the broken and unseen poems.
The uncreased bedsheet, witness to the tentative night ; with its unresolved argument, and simmering silence ; welcomes the ambiguous morn, resigned to its fate, of a love, with a changed metallurgy.
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