Chronicle Of Love
She had been suffering,
The broken relationships under the cracked memoirs
Bones almost plundered
With the fearful hopes, anxious, doubtful all the way
So I slowed down a little bit,
With fragments of kisses
With delicate touches of makeover trials
With the letters denote something like love or etc.
Smell of nights, music of movements
Written poems underneath
Like few lonely stars and cupboard stories of heavenly bodies,
Not so useful yet essential for the time being.
So she lifted her hurting eyes
Like men on wary lands, painful yet with some remote dreams
With folded arms and keeping space between;
Not for me, but to remember her story still.