Provoke
The slight wave of your hand, my disaster-stricken land
The shredded pieces of my best laid plans
Embraced me like a falling sunset, and all my remains
A was to my could'ves, a not to my cans
Mysterious was the night, reflected in your unmet eyes
Unfulfilled heart-like constellations in those skies
The flashing of a lighting strike, in your slightest smile
Provoked emotions of want, was the thunder following in my mind
YOU ARE READING
Scarred Pages
PoetryBarren lands of heartbreaks, inscribed with words like wounds and painted with emotions like bruises, depicts the heart of a Poetess. Scarred pages can be conceptualised as those unaddressed letters buried under dust in a drawer, written solely to t...
