Completed. Poetry. Short story.
Amber was one of the best fine artists in town. Blessed with intelligence, she knew how to make the best use of her talent. Everybody loved her, her and her paintings.
When she was so perfect with her work, praises di...
It's obvious that I was reprimanded later, Even I don't remember how I had in me this hater; But I didn't feel any guilt, And that's how my ruination was built;
I knew how dangerous the flame in me was, It was more than petty flaws; It swallowed my breaths- one by one, Away from it I couldn't run;
When I was told to apologise, I turned away and stifled meaningless cries; Before anything in me her questioning eyes could stir, I cruelly spat vicious words at her.
:::
Heaven knows I cannot hold this burden, I am scarred with feelings so uncertain; I want to, but cannot forget Things I want to, of Scarlet;
She never inflicted me any physical pain, She was all smart and sane; But my esteem she did break, And it wasn't even her mistake;
I will never walk that street again, Even if I lose my every gain; But all my determination breaks without a warning, When I see her on my doorstep the very next morning.
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Feel connected to Amber in any way? Tell me if you do!
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