EMPTY STRANDS

Proximity into the dark blue sky,
the light & shade of the shimmery world
makes me feel shy.

Dark kohl eyes, watch me by and 
I lie silent inside the four walls of my life 
as every second pass by.

Melancholic memories echo 
and leave me furious. 
As I write, the pen,
sweet, but painfully hit my ego.


I spend hours with the empty strands and 
realise that those essays with little hands 
have casted their ways for bluish poetries.

While to my subconscious;
poems, stories and some part of you
are like cobwebs in the empty strands.
 
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