His death

A funeral of a love that never get its happy ending. A lover mourning for another one.

He died in my presence

but. . . he is alive in my thoughts

his wounds were deep

but the scars he had were beautiful....

I remember the sparks in his eyes

I had them. . . when I had him too

Then his death was so silent

only my heart screamed

If I remember correctly

that day was sunny

But my eyes were pouring

The clouds must've reflected in my eyes that time

I don't remember it anymore . . . . much actually__

It's been so long since I am this hollow

I was empty first

He filled me with joy, love, harmony 

And quenched my thirst

Then on a lonely morning I was standing in the crowd

He was so pale, as I gazed upon him

I thought he must be so cold

So, I asked him . . . . but he was silent

He was silent, he was cold

He was nowhere, he was gone!!

I read about him last night . . .sooo

I read about him last night and his face was a blur in my head. .  . .

Been so long, what can I say?

He died I  mourned. .  .

He is far from my presence but so close in my thoughts!

Author's Note

Take a pause for a second when . . . appears between the words. Feel the situation.

Reviews

[Dheeraj]

I'm astonished that people aren't providing feedback for this magnificent piece of writing. It's rare to come across something as emotionally intense and vulnerable as a naked body on a cold night. To me, it seems that people have lost the sensitivity to grasp the depth of such works or have grown accustomed to ignoring things that prompt self-reflection and introspection.