Nameless Writer

I’m a nameless writer

She is my sole subject

A few characters, in addition

To attach a life in to a story

And here is my life story

That lives inside my soul

Rolls in and out for a flow

Which reflects the minutes

Already passed, and days, years

Yet to come, to spill the ink

On that white paper, where I write

But the naughtiness of ink

Clears the beauty of my thoughts

To showcase an imaginary

Tale, still to be written

With the same characters

Blends by the changes in their lives

From being natural to artificial

Clears their past to present

To accept my story smells with her scent.

Photo Credits: Mind Matter

A Thread of Her Memories

I peered deeper into the mirror

Her image- she wasn’t there

I cleared my clueless mind

Her change- an unseen shadow

I waited for her, doubtlessly

Her smile- a breaking thought

I stood there, still in agony

Her absence- story of my present

I fell down, not to stand today

Her death- my afterlife.

Photo Credits: Tumblr