Lost

they would wriggle their tongues,

teasing each other, from

opposite sides of the fence,

of sharp protrudes, which

could not cut the thread,

by which they were joined,

their comradeship intact, with

an amalgam of childish love,

and the simple plain desire,

of being with the other

.

through the window, of the

structures, that stood apart,

divided by a brick wall,

the tentacle eyed would

look, at the blooming friendship,

ready to plunge, their venom

into the hearts, of the innocents,

bidding for the time, when they

could feed, the mouths of them,

with the bitter seed, of animosity,

.

many years passed, everything passed,

the walls of, those cursed shelters,

had bounded down, all that remained

was that fence, the knives of which

had gone blunt, and on the either side,

stood those, who knew each other once,

aware of the vacant space, in their chests,

(the yarn had gone loose, but there

was still a hope left, everything

had not gone, into trash yet)

.

on the gravel ground, they were stagnant,

reviving what was snatched from them,

how they were cheated, and left with

the ache, of losing what was theirs,

their eyes pierced, their souls apart,

and they veered away, not able to

grasp the pain, of their small lives,

losing balance, of the truth, they gained,

they walked away, finding their own ways,

what it was, it was lost, and that was all

.

Submitting the link to:

1. Sunday Whirl

2. Poetry Pantry

Image source