Striking incoherence,
picking at disconnected chords,
some gentle breezes
tell tales of old fragrance -
fanning the glowing embers
lying just beneath,
piercing the strong veils, and
stinging at the soul’s mirror -
it makes the pain ooze out.
For, losing a dear
is seldom forgotten.
But blinking back, and
concealing the wounds within,
dropping the curtains down again,
we say, of a gone scar
that is rarely remembered.
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