Break of the dusk,
slipping into the moonless darkness
Her eyes bled pain,
for she saw no future
Only a melancholic mourning,
clutching on to the crushed desires
A disciple of death
An employee of
demolished dreams
As a roaring fire on
a cold coastal night
Fishing in the
troubled waters, what would she possibly grip?
Camouflaged, consumed
by the abdication
'They'll heal, soon' she
recited to save herself from herself.
Engulfed by a storm,
that took her away which spelled no return
She rained of misery,
of numbness that bit her veins
Looked around,
nothing could she call her own
Suppressed sighs so
it touched no ears
Beseeched love, of
faith or just any sign viable
Dawn paid a religious
return.
She flipped the
pillow, on a pursuit to disguise the damp
Wiped off the kohl
marks, masked a few nude colours
So, she'd pretend,
the pretension- she'd mastered to perfection
To look happy, to
look content, perfectly appropriate
For once she’d mute,
for another, she’d dim.
Only to bar herself
from the injury, the hurt
She knew, she had to
dust her back,
For, no one would
lend an ear to her reasons:
She got on the toes,
with standards to rub shoulders with
Set out, to honour
the routine, to serve the life's business
But what when,
The colours fade
away?
The fate only brings
her back to square one?
The brimmed eyes are
to show themselves, up again?
Can the dark
sunglasses hide her soul from the rest, from herself?
