Gazing Tale

Your eyes give more than what you would want to let out.

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I’m afraid i’ll run out of words some day
and that my memory will crumble and all i’ll be left with- some withered half torn photographs in sepia. It makes me anxious for I want to make you immortal. When words will fail to come out, I’ll be dismayed; how else would people know of the ravishing beauty that you were and the subtle ways you trampled on hearts and broke it into a million pieces.

——–

Here you are, in front of me, in flesh and blood; I’m sorry I can’t help looking in your deep hazel eyes, half concealed with your locks. It speaks of a forlorn tale about your debacles for decades, about the truth of your rusty skin and the struggling smiles to keep you sane. Sorry for staring too long. That scar I see beneath your right eye, what is it? A self induced sin or a chaste mistake?
I want to know your stories that are deep engulfed within and saturated with chagrin. I want to know it all.


——–


I no longer fret to preserve her chronicle. You see, those hazel eyes cover her stories from the rosy life to a decayed death. And as long I have a picture of her eyes, I can write songs about her- till the end of time.

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