The glass was cracked,
And little by little everyday,
It cracked even more,
But never turned to pieces,
For it knew,
That thunderstorm would destroy it,
And kept holding,
In the wait of the breeze,
To cherish it's flaws.

"One fine morning,
                                      As usual Mary went for jog,
                   and while returning home, she checked the letter box,
                     Besides the usual bills, advertisements and offers
             There lay this ominous letter in black and crimson color...
                                                and of course,
             curiosity got better of her and she was ripping of the edges

                                    and on scanning the contents  
                                       she gave out a shrill cry...
                                          her fingers trembling
                                         her forehead sweating...
                                      
                                         It was a suicide letter!!
                                      A letter with news of death
                                            A letter from a man
                                                 who wrote this
                                         before his few last breaths...

                                       Slowly she read each word..
                             each one of them echoing in her head..
                                       the letter went as follows-

Dear Jane,
I love you a lot,
and I know you will be in shock and pain,
but I couldn't handle it anymore,
I found my answers in the dark,
I found solace in enternal bliss,
I just want you to stay strong,
and fulfill my last wish,
so lend me your attention, woman,
Do  you remember that old paino we have in the attic?,
I want you to gift that to my small sister,
Lily is naive and she would miss me and won't find any thing
To call her own anymore,
Give her this paino so that she may hold it dear to her heart,
If you don't do this for me,
then I am afraid my soul wouldn't rest,
and in a fortnight I would be chasing you as a ghoul,
you will always be my girl,
Love,
          Peter

                             Mary read and re-read again and again,
                             then she finally gave a sigh of relief,
                   and picked up her phone and went to do laundries,
                                                     You see,
                        the letter had reached the wrong destination.
                                               (what a irony)"

The fantasy of love came true to me,
With an eternal lover,
Who made me even more alive than I used to be,
I see that it was all mine with time,
But idiotic me who let it slip by due a new rhyme

The new rhyme is how I imagined it to be,
But it's not my fantasy,
Now I've lost a part of me with the eternal love which had come to me,
Now do you see me faking it all,
And living in fear which I had earlier fought.

And after loosing a part of me,
Oh! I see why fantasies are never true to be,
Because with human complicated mind,
We can never keep the charm of our fantasies.

Left without his mystical sound,
I finally see my drowning crown