Friday, 7 December 2012

Junked Sentiment

I shaped the papers as how I was instructed by fervour and incessant felicity. I let  these hands accept dictation from a throbbing nostalgist. Not glued, but rather fastened with strings and buttons to signify firm inclination and  infallible attachment of my own fragments. It was hours of only you in a reality seeming frosted ever so. However the crafted figment came out to be a kick in the teeth that tripped over a covert dumpsite.

In tatters. Leave me be.


1 comment:

  1. Oh what a tragedy to compel oneself to be numb and forget everything.