dear poet,
found no clear words
to describe an unseen crestfallen face,
the unseen,
or yet to be seen.
my mere thoughts,
yes! torture me..
her sorrow
as if ceases my time,
the ticks and tocks ceased.
I know not
till when I'll be paralyzed.
so in my darkness I float,
in a timeless space.
always seeking forgiveness,
through her memories,
for sins,
i might've never done.
but dear poet,
apprise her must!
these mere but involuntary attempts
of imagination kill me!
i die every day!
then revive the very next dawn
to seek her apology in person.
dear poet, so pray i must
for sorrows to be wiped off that crestfallen face forever.
.
.
.
dear poet,
ask the heart the evident,
how awfully i desire
to have a glimpse of that angelic simper.