Business of seeking pity, gathering sympathies
So shamelessly
Take it, this is yours
This is not mine
Both might have had hearts to be face to face
Holding back, or holding on, and not holding at all
Turning around unlike going forward
As it seems so right
Memories, words were lies
Self-contained spillage of yourself
Is now in every corner of the room
You only covered the ones before
While every page of the good book
Was so uncovered with its content,
Meanings you meant for getting this all wrong,
Never really read anything good nor ever understood
As mindless as can be directions of the winds
Very badly drawn or erased
And the falling rain drops, yes the rain drops,
Know of no contours which would
Stop them from being them selves
Falling is their nature
They can’t stop from being!
As one was stopped from being, while wanted
But not really… approached, but not really
While being tried but so cheap grandly
And then the left over of what is
and what was left over by you
But here, there is
Nothing to own for you, nothing to disown by you
Memories are priceless
They are mine and they are not yours!
Dushwari