Must we face the dancing rain
and soak up the skies with our tears?
I cannot carry your will in my sleepless nights.
I cannot offer you my misery
and I cannot be dull to my vivaciousness.
She leans against his shoulder
and rests her sigh on open plains
as it is carried through the breeze
towards many forgotten things.
“Soldiers will be soldiers…”
She whispers,
“… and whores would be whores”
and then she smiles with no sense of expression.
No I cannot narrate what is only felt
while I am immersed in you.
I have no sense of words
and I have no sense of direction.
But you.
So let it be undone here.
Because an incomplete verse
is far more relishing than
whole story with a sad ending.
Asima S.
