She~

She ~

Her pen has become my favorite

So much that she knew I stole it.

So much that I wouldn't dare 

Give her back.

So much that it became part of me.

..Like her pen, I'm falling for her,

But not yet fallen;

Slowly longing to love her,

But not yet mine;

I want this pleasure to be existed,

In love..

She, word by word apart of it

I cannot live without

She, I desired to be with

The voice, I cannot comprehend with beauty.

The sight, her, I came to be addicted.

The perfume, in miles drugged by her.

I'm in love..

Even her question of how possible

Silence could torment beauty..

I was in a mid way to say a word,

A stuttered word, forgotten;

Down to dropping ink; abandoned;

Pieces of a torn book, hated;

You see... I'm afraid of silence

I'm afraid of loss

I'm afraid of forgetting 

How she was been enough to me..

To steal what once she belonged, 

Is to have a part of her she could not understand.

Her beauty might've captive my silence,

But my silence had always been something to her..

'Cause 

She, without whom, I'm no one ~

P.S~ M.O.A