When the velvet fabric dissolves around the sky resonating the fact that its night , I walk to the window trying to trace the moon you once told me i look like but in doing so I feel exposed to the wild winds that tear me apart everytime I breathe , exposed to the crumpled pieces of paper that holds your name, I jotted down as I took a stroll along the memory lane but now that you have parted ways I don't feel hollow any more but rather amazed of how beautiful these scarred are, fascinated by the blood that rush out in the form of tears, tell me if it was the appearance that mattered why is the soul embraced in the sky while the body burned, buried beneath the ground ?

I saw her on
a casement window,
standing still like
an inconspicuous being.

The place she lived,
was out-of-the-ordinary.
It looked just so-
Profane and Blasphemous!

Yet, I was in an
Unusual Dilemma.

People called her a "*******".
Yes, a *******.
They said,
she uses a certain form of her talent
to make money.

I was completely contradicted.
My thoughts were jailed.

She was an eccedentesiast.
Though, to me,
she appeared like Cinderella.
The Princess of her own world.

Her hair was so thick and dense
so as not even a
single ray of sunlight
could penetrate through it.

Her lips were Salaciously
Sweet and *****!

They were overlaid by
a sensual silky vermillion coat.
It was so arid and parched as
if they were craving for Thirst.

She was caked with thick makeup.
She had dark circles underneath her eyes.
She wore these enormous high heels.
And held a cigarette in her hand.

Her face revealed a thousand and
a million stories.
She was clouded with desire and
a little with shame.

She seemed to be all tired.
Her eyes were drowsy.
You could see her feel;
"It was better to marry
Than to burn in the fire of Lust."