If i was a words smith,
I would paint her countenance with a million smiles.
Each the number of the many times we should have shared with glee.
If i had a blessed hand at art,
I would describe her on canvas and walls.
She, the the hope in the dawn.
The calm of the dusk
A mesmerizing enchantment.
Pity that I tell words in past tense and lacking.
Happy for an understated verb.
To mean the episodes of what she framed with love,
A treasure she offered to a cold heart;
Oblivious of compassion.
Its a whole world she opened in the tender of her care,
That heavenly presence she was, in an aura she revoked.
The goddess in divine flawlessness of her beauty. Inside well as outside
All to a soul that knew no gratitude.
An infatuated heart that had fallen for vanity
She was the slayer,
In the judgement day of her unrequited love,
When the last grain in the hourglass of her grace period was fallen.
All left of her bright was the crepuscular rays in hour of dusk.
I reminisce her in the lighting of the twilight of a fading day.
I hope eyes on the silver linings of the sunset clouds.
I get to recollect it all in sepia faded déjà-vu,
Of the dark and the embers of your soul.
The distance has consumed you.
Blurred you in the mist of my ego.
I have lost the grip I had on you,
In the feeble of my hold for your encumbering scorn in its justification.
We are lost to each other.
Meeting as worst we could be of each other-