By Shashwat Thakur
Wry smiles,
Fleeting relations,
Unexplained goodbyes
And tormenting thoughts
Strongly swayed her mind
As she swivelled in her chair
And her eyes struggled to see
Through the murk of the odd night
That was dry with gloom but still wet
Because of the tears she’d wept;
Dark and bleak, yet quite bright
With the glint of malevolence;
Cold, empty and vilely filled
With a dearth of mirth,
The scuffle of feet,
Broken promises
And wry smiles.
By Shashwat Thakur
Comments