It was an urge
A habit, of sorts
The perfumed body of thoughts
I wanted that all.
In small proportions
I loved the entire artwork
It seemed as a masterpiece
And I wanted to keep it alive
In my dreams, in my heart
In my memories,
Of love and failure.
A present so beautiful
Turned itself into an ugly past
A love forbidden, I was asked to pass.
The scripture of my love
Suddenly shook to reality
And burnt down to ashes
The moment I touched it.
You can’t rub
The already written script
The already told fortune
The already whispered thoughts
And the already lost love.
