If he pointed at my scars and asked,
I would squirm in my navel and dwindle.
If he gazed at my dead dark eyes and smiled,
I would stare blindly sieving through his reverie.
If he spilled tender touches all over me,
I would hide my soul first under the pillow.
If he serenaded his love through the moist night tears,
I would clutch onto my secrets and shudder.
I do not know how to give in,
I do not know how to let go…
The road that still hears my footsteps,
Meanders at the dark of the pin-drop alley.
I forbid my secrets to disrobe and unfurl,
I whisper conspiracies with the midnight air…
Come tomorrow, they look up to me through their veils
How I revived and still breathe warm.
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