The weeping that does not make sound
Surely it is mine.
The scraps of memory that cannot be wiped
Surely it is yours.
The letters that were written with drops of tears
I am the author of these.
The dark stains that settle on my heart
You are the author of these.
The tear that trickles from secluded eyes
I am the owner of it.
The callous heart that deceives me
You are the owner of it.
Due to lunacy of love I was blind
But consciously you were unkind.
The yearning of a heart is to get itself lost into others
And my desire was to get your kind favours
I wept so much in love that I can not endure
But I take pride that my love was pure.
A ruthless beloved or a dreadful betrayer
What ever you are- I little care.
In this dreary world I am the hopeless begger
Who does not get alms even after frequent prayer?
shakil ahmed
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-love-471/
