Thursday, 19 November 2009

Cold November*

She woke up this morning
Feeling a different kind of weight
The weight of things that were left unsaid

Last night had passed hastily
Lacking everything but tranquility
For his smiles, intentionally candid
Gave her fraudulent substance
That kept her company the whole night through

Who’s hiding behind the smiles, she wondered,
Is it the same soul she deliberately fell for
Back in the days, when time stood still?
Or is it a new soul, smitten by a new lust
That she once knew and now is obsessing about?

His words, impeccably chosen words, gave her comfort
That her mind couldn’t keep hold of
Words are words
They hardly climbed up the ladder of her soul
Only to reach her mind in form of incoherent fragments
The soothe of which disappeared as fast as it surfaced

Where is momentary madness?

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