I am dying in my love to him,
Lest I choose over, I'd fall off the brim,
Am withering like a flower at dim,
With the love given out not returned by him,
The contusions from his confusions now grim,
The very thought of the past love hymn;
Even with the understanding, I skim,
The part where it's good to leave him,
Even that thought is hard to sink,
For him I would still oceans swim,
But as the truth shows the mirage fades close to whim,
He was never in this folk I created like Grimm.
The closer we reach to the mirage, the more we realize how it was never there in the first place.
Chaahat
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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...
