It's his melancholic eyes,
that looked behind the fragile disguise
looking at his own demise;
at a girl with a tragic surprise:
with weary eyes and fragile bones.
An insurmountable power you still hold,
to slowly destroy me with what you have
and what I don't;
the clock ticking
the days passing
the nights dancing
my heart beating.
a voice that was barely a whisper from
a withered mouth that let it linger
a hope that is about to perish
a love that you and I still cherish.
for as long as, I am his. I am unafraid I am well I am alive I am human.
Faryal Faizee
Senior Editor, Creative Writing, English
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