Loved or Unloved
In the evenings,
It gets so cold.
That I whisper to myself,
“Pain is also for the bold”.
The light starts to leave,
From the very beginning of dusk.
It reminds me of my true self
So impatient and brusque.
The past being so wicked,
It quivers my voice.
The fact I should accept
As if I have any choice.
"Light" I desire
From the periphery of my black,
“A Love I might always crave for”
The Love that the present lack.
When I craved for permanence,
But he came during his leisure.
I can’t decide if I was love for him
Or a temporary entity for pleasure.