Pressed the scar and found the source,
It didn't hurt when the scar bled,
But it killed to know, that the source, were you.
Tracing my scar with your fingers, you cried,
When you touched it, were you sorry?
I saw, hope glimmering in your eyes.
A hope that held onto the last string of faith,
A hope that assured "everything is going to be alright".
But, it was too late to heal,
It was no more "us",
Our story already reached "The End".
~S.
YOU ARE READING
Monochrome
Poetry"Inking something meaningful"- Wish This poetry collection revolves around human emotions. If you want to recognise them through the words of a poet, you're most welcome.
