𝙻𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚎.

𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘢𝘳

Worn out by reciting the phrase 'memories yet to be'

Aching for a future based on baseless destiny

I'm tired of pondering of how my fairytale would unfold

Dreaming of sharing one's soul...

Holding redemancy with the One

                         seeing stars in their eyes,

                               their beauty on constellations in the night sky

Unable to go on praying, to feel the warmth at dawn through a twitterpated gaze 

To drown in your words, whispered under an idyllic moonlit haze

Endeavouring to hold on to the hope of an Elysian blessing that would float into my life, 

but for once...

 I want to be the words,

                                                 not the poet.

Albeit my devotion is an eternal flame, 

If it starts to dim I amn't to blame                .