I guess you wrote me in one of those slates,
So you could rub me off when you please,
Carve me harder if you may will!
I guess you forgot our love in those plates,
The promises you made to me as you tease,
And your hand rubbed me after the thrill!
I guess now I am just a faint mark that waits,
One with a rate and not allowed to chase,
And your girl rubbed me of with black paint with skill!
I am sure that by now, you won't do what it takes,
For those powders of me to have a vase,
So that in the course of time, I'd escape the shrill!
Even a slate shows some impression of what was written in it, but some people just erase you without a trace that you even existed.
Chaahat
YOU ARE READING
The Darkest Shade Of Black
PoetryAbout that shade of black that's darker, deeper and stronger. About a black so mean that it scared death away. About the blackness in my heart that seeks to all the bright. About a black so overpowering that it degrades all smiles. About T...
