Slowly he opened the door.
Picked up all the broken glass
Furniture on the floor.
It wasn’t long
Before it came again.
Her memories.
Her presence was writ everywhere.
Yet she was not there.
It was dark.
He lit up a candle.
The shadow on the wall
Seemed to mock him.
He saw her on the candle.
Dancing in the flame.
Hands outstretched,
he longed for her
Only to get burned once again.
He saw her in the water
Filled up in the glass.
He picked it up.
Put it to his lips.
Not strangely,
The water was sweet…
abhinav
behind the mask....
“The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. ...You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask.” - The Lizard King
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1 comment:
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