Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2014
And all of a sudden  those colorful t-shirts don't make sense at all.
Those party dresses seem like a waste of cloth.
Black is what I like.
Black is what makes sense.
Because now that I know the real you,
Black is all I can see.
Black is all I can hear.
Mehar Bawa
Written by
Mehar Bawa  Delhi
(Delhi)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems