I heard that she left the town, moved on from the past.
I heard that when she left even the town clock tower stopped working.
Nobody speaks of her to me anymore.
Of the one with hair like the monsoon clouds and lips like ripe strawberries. And a skin like vanilla with a pinch of saffron.
They used to write her and my names inside heart shapes drawn on every wall of the town.
Those relics are faint now, washed away with time and rain.
Sometimes those people who knew me with her, want to ask me about her, but their sound dies out in their vocal cords before forming a word.
The last I saw her was in my dream.....
I saw her walking down the streets, She was all red, torn, crying, screaming and begging me not to leave her.
All the faces I know are there standing, watching her, with sorrow in their eyes.
And there I was the culprit trying to find words, reasons, excuses .....
For a Yes ...... For a No.
I heard that when she left even the town clock tower stopped working.
Nobody speaks of her to me anymore.
Of the one with hair like the monsoon clouds and lips like ripe strawberries. And a skin like vanilla with a pinch of saffron.
They used to write her and my names inside heart shapes drawn on every wall of the town.
Those relics are faint now, washed away with time and rain.
Sometimes those people who knew me with her, want to ask me about her, but their sound dies out in their vocal cords before forming a word.
The last I saw her was in my dream.....
I saw her walking down the streets, She was all red, torn, crying, screaming and begging me not to leave her.
All the faces I know are there standing, watching her, with sorrow in their eyes.
And there I was the culprit trying to find words, reasons, excuses .....
For a Yes ...... For a No.
