She.

She wrote poetry.
Complex words, twisted meanings
With strange voices, limbs.
She would sit for hours
On the busy street, amidst million lights
Wait for me, drop a tear or two
And then wrote poetry
About strange little butterflies,
Papers, baskets, and estranged seeds.
She would stare me for hours
In our bed, with glare in her eyes
Amidst the chaos of her mind
And softly say, "Don't leave me."
No reply from me upset her.
Waited for it for days,
Sometimes even months.
She wrote poetry.
It made her strange.
She forgot everything;
The creek, the clothes,
The little reminders of reality...
The chits on the wall,
My silence and her pity.
She wrote poetry.
It made her speak one day,
"I know you want to go."
It made her lose the tempo.
She forgot bidding me a goodbye.
She wrote poetry.
She wrote her journey,
Back and forth with me.
She wrote poetry,
Of losing the only one she had.
She wrote poetry,
Of all the things it made her lose.
Of all the things she lost.
Of the day she got lost.
She wrote poetry...
For me.

Now Playing: A Journey Of The Heart | Karunesh

P.S: It is one of my favourite songs.!