Trying to figure…

​”Your face, my thane, is as a book where men

May read strange matters.”
MacbethAct 1, Scene 5, Page 3
But you hide them well,Do you love me,Or hate me?I cannot really tellAll I hear is your voiceI look for love in every syllableI repeat those conversations again and againEven in my dreamsI try to dissect your tonesTo figureout the meaningWith tears in my eyesI am at my wits endBut I try tomorrow tooBut I fail to see what I seekMy mind laughs,“You are on your own”My heart retortsBut without any proofsI am left in a pool of tearsAs alwaysJust as I cried the last forty daysI weep….
~ Dakshi~18/08/2016

About Dee

This entry was posted in Dark Poetry, Distance, Heartache, I hate this distance, I write for You, love me, Melancholy, Missing, NIght, Pain, Patience, Poetry, Read my mind, Relationships, Tears, Thoughts, Waiting, You and Me and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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