by the window,
gazing on the crescent moon,
cold breezes tear through the room,
the night sky,
glistening monochrome picture,
the beauty reminds me of you,
goose bumps graze the skin,
reality fades away,
and,
involuntarily end up on your world,
The first letter i wrote you,
lays on my hand,
i spilt my heart out for you,
asked to take you out too,
wind blows pieces of paper,
and there lies the fourth letter,
i wrote, it's a poem
scripted script less,
written from the edges of my thought's,
as words coined at will,
i think you would've liked it,
the ending, a cretan,
sends me to the second letter,
a rhyme, declaring
my love for you,
a lovely one,
but the brightest thought's,
bloom the darkest,
and then reality keeps up,
it haunt's you know,
knowing my heart harbors affection,
for you,but silence rule's my mouth,
knowing my brittle heart,
would easily fall for her charm's,
letters didn't see the mail man,
i once dropped it at your doorstep,
wore a cape to get the courage,
to knock,and i did,
but instead i woke up.
Scripted lamentations