“There is a plethora of innate disappointment,
Bound under sullen eyes; easel of lavender hues,
The sweet ignorance of undivided attention,
That promised you the world and its love.
Your four eyes and two faces;
Are reminders of saccharine sadness,
Embraced in scarves of white lies,
Shiver at the mere vanity of endeavour!
Your paper town upbringing and cutout love,
Traced silhouettes of my insecurities,
Painted my isolations with blissful caress,
White innocence of a darkened soul.
To seek comfort in the arms of strangers,
Malignant burdens that you couldn’t carry,
The subtle blame of being a prisoner;
Of my own illusion and society’s expectation.
The wonders of a platonic friendship
Once loved: To be remembered and mourned
The writings of an eulogy
That spoke of better times.
But I bow in acknowledgement
To the end of what we shared
The peculiar beauty in letting friendships go
And savouring its lessons and in delight
Realising that pain runs so deep,
That it opens the emptiness of my loss
And allows me to be awed by the mystery of its haunting.”