Monday, 26 December, 2016

Incremental loss.

Layer after layer
Peeled off her muted face
Skin of love went first
Tailgated by that of lust
Then went understanding 
Took away companionship
Friendship followed soon towards.

Extended hands come back
Rest on the face
What remains now is a plain surface
You cannot scrape anything from 
Anymore from.

No goosebumps, no butterflies 
Only disappointed droopy eyes
Looking out for no one.
Don't ask her why she won't move
She is a victim of optimism.