Thinking of me as a saker,
landing on my earth after I whistled a fire,
Calling me a liar, cocky and the smallest being,
Finding the way to my truth,
Hating to show bare teeth,
Talking about me under the table to declare,
Seeing the soul of yours as an air,
Laughing after with the peers of rekindled jokes,
sharing past lives, uttering a vow,
Hearing and talking the tryst in low,
Bending the weight of rift, and waltzing with a glory mist,
Combing my curses as your own,
Replacing my sombre eyes with vivid memories to owe,
Leaving my wretched place, hoping to see a face,
Calming a blast from a dreary phase,
Having the accidental chemistry, my cups are carried,
I recall every moment slowly I said, would save me or run away with me?
YOU ARE READING
Beyond The Glass
PoetryPutting poetry and prose on a glasses, A time passes, The scar built gashes, a sake of my health drew ashes, This poetry talks about the glasses, and my Cancer journey.