You run through my veins like blood, I close my eyes only to see your face, the tug on my heart assures me you are still there.
We had our time, we have moved on I see you and I can’t breathe, I pray for time to stand still. Was there a part of our past that has not played out? Will there ever be another chapter? Was that the end? Am I to always wonder and ask
For a messenger of lies I lay down the script. A kick starts the game. I am the only visitor to the gallery. Kamasutra suicide displayed was a way of expression of a revolt against honour killing of your own