Imprints on the heart,
Some echo gentle love and soothing touch,
Some are eyes that are wells of honesty
Sometimes that love may get lost in the way
And the heart might search for,
Not checking within its deepest pockets
Imprints on the heart,
Harsh voices and jagged lines,
Deceiving smiles and barely concealed lies,
Hands that reach deep within,
Squeezing the heart dry,
And coming back for the tiny drops
Imprints on the heart,
Truth reached every corner,
But the truth was detrimental to its survival,
It had to be intact
It had to live to see that sunset,
That sunset from the shoreline
On a faraway beach
The sunset that sings in tune
with the heart's roaring beats,
That song that the prisoner was always deaf to hitherto,
That beautiful anthem called freedom.
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
