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The tale of forlorn
love,
Lost before it could
be found;
Eternal wait and
moments,
Of hope and despair;
The search for the
whole,
And the fiddling
with parts and pieces;
The seeking of momentary
comforts,
And the temporary
solutions;
Deep down tryst with
difficult realities,
And the layer of camouflage
of indifference;
The void that
appears and disappears,
Like the unexpected
rains in a summer sky;
The laughter and the
pain,
Fleeting like the
fuming vapours;
Like a shower washes
off certain layers,
Of you,
Leaving the parts bare;
Like the ripples
unsettle the calmness of waters,
Only that you will
never be same again.
.................Love?
.................What is it that
people call love?
The poem is written
for INDISPIRE EDITION 122Loving is not always an easy task. Love comes with it's share of pain and
guilt. Share a story or invent one where that pain is revealed in a form
unimaginable, in a direction not-thought.#thatstory
This must have come from great depths. Tugged some very hidden strings.
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