Even if you die I'll keep you alive in the songs of sapphire and the haikus engraved in the memoirs I wrote in last few years, since I became an amonist, who prays love and you . But you and your ephemeral stay created an ullage, ravaged my sanguine soul. Still you need not to worry for the loss you did to me . As I am heading to the epiphany abandoning the cascade you showed to me, is atavistic you said and the sonnets you wrote while I was abroad to me on my anniversaries. I can't wave you like a seashore. So, I'll leave a haiku on your door .
I guess I am back. No, I won't tell or discuss what happened, what I tried to do or where the ***k I had been in these last days. Yeah, I know you know I don't seek sympathies or attention. So, what happened, happened. What's gonna happen, happens. Nobody can stop things from happening. Savvy! All I can say I am alive and striving my best.
Things I get when I put the apron on brickbats and bruises for doing my all, a kick in the gut and slap to my face accolades of abuses yet an expectation of grace. I am put on a pedestal but also used as a floor rag they bang thalis one day & then put a target on my back. Sometimes called divine, trembling hands asking me to try the other times I'm a swine, Thrashed like I'm in a pigsty. Bloodshot eyes, dark circles from long nights asking for forgiveness though I did no crimes Things I get when I put the apron on punishments for the tragedies that I did not cause.