Beyond those wet crippled pages, torn from the diary,
fresh with ink and few of tears,
I lay upon the bed, twisting the cover
thoughts so deep and yet fiery,
The burden too heavy to bear,
"Should I be happy that I got back the lover,
or sad, that he wasn't yet sure?"
Though the pain was too much,
and I yearned even for his friendship,
atleast, we are in touch-
without the touch we had...
I feel abandoned, I weep,
and yet, I had a friend,
from my side, something more..
from his, who knew?
Should I welcome the happiness back in life,
or treat it as a new trouble,
The thoughts would pierce me like a knife,
The fears, would make me wobble.
Back did he come, but did the love?
If it did come, did the trust?
Should I chase it, or let it free,
and wait forever to come back to me?
Didn't I already do it, but?
Could I live-
ask anyone, I truely could not..
Yet something still binds me from inside,
and the love,
I do accept, but yet not..
Trust once lost, maybe needs too much time,
to nurture, to gain back,
or maybe forever...
But wasn't it only the love I desired?
