It’s cold there, And you left me, A blanket and your memories, Are the only things left with me.
Yes, the warm black blanket, Soaked my tears all night, I should have realized it before, You were the endless dark which I tried to light.
I was shivering and threatening in that cold, Blanket gave me warmth, to a position where I imagined you before. Never felt that feeling of warmth and touch, Thanks for making me realize, I love my blanket too much.
Hidden, there, behind a barrel two eyes peep out ever so often— glimmer of their pipe dreams, evanescent, in a hopeless world. In those seconds, micro-seconds in a landscape cleft where other sets of dulled eyes search forlorn vistas in