I keep sketching your face,
On the corner of my last page.
I draw,
I erase.
I give your face a dark shade.
I fill in some lines in your forehead,
Wide enough to walk on them.
I create a bridge between your eyes,
Strong enough to hold me whenever I cry.
I come down, to draw the smile on your face,
You look sad; I increase my pace.
I still make the smile go up,
Ear to ear,
Long enough to carry the length of every forgotten memoir.
I erase,
I erase everything.
I erase you from my memory,
It's been going on since about a century?
Now there's only me.
~Dishashree Swain✨🌝
YOU ARE READING
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
