With every shiver
There lied a cure….
It was your touch
Maybe, more than much….
Which used to set my soul flying
Along with the butterflies, but now I’m dying….
Since your untimed departure
My dear life’s curator….
The colors that you filled in
Lost to white within….
Bangles cracked in depression
Leaving behind a semi ellipse and separation….
But why is it that
The plot exists till flat….
12 o’clock, if being precise
And not pessimistic, likewise….
That every last sight of sorrow
Gets buried deep down in a burrow….
And a new world unfolds
Which this darkness beholds….
Those shivers now speak
For tremors, to unhide the peek….
Of someone less known
Yet, not that unknown….
Maybe because that’s you
Running away in this hazy dew….
Calling my name
With same charm, no change….
Finally I get hold of you
To let know how much I miss you….
To which, with your blood as vermilion
You fill the rightful place, and pause the oblivion….
So was it a dream behind my blink
Or reality that I chose to think….
Is hard to say, since the red
Still lies on my forehead….