3 years and a day till our seventh month well spent
with whispers that only deities and lovers hear
a fluid motion of heat and sheens of sweat
the universe seemed suddenly clear
with every breath, every laugh, every sigh and tear
with every hopes and dreams combined
the future path was full of cheer
when we believed that love was blind
3 years and a day till our seventh month
one thousand three hundred and four days so blunt
was the time I spent with you
it was a time you knowingly threw
with every memory that echos through (my) mind
beyond society , morality, time and space
for heart so weary that seems out of grace
Absence is indeed presence, I now wish far from it’s embrace.
