I don't shed tears anymore.
I shed kohl.
Turquoise, green, grey
It is all shades but you.
I search for a blotch of fault in eternity,
where scented drops of time,
in your hue,
are rimming my eyes.
So they can no more cry my sinful desires.
And all this darkness that
drains down the sink
finds its way back to my eyes, each night.
And only if, it could embrace my ink,
only if I could write a letter,
to you
about how I crave light.
And how I fear it.
But what would I write with?
I will never know.
About the Author
Lubna Irfan
Member Since: 26 Aug, 2015
Lubna Irfan is a student of Medieval Indian History at AMU. Her areas of interest are art and culture . The growth of ideas and human mind fascinate her. She likes to write about history and the conditions of women in Indian society. She voices her t...
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