The moment of illusion and nightmare

 

 

From whose eyelashes I fell on the cheeks?

 

Whose read lips contained my colour?

 

Whose breaths told my story?

 

Wishing for untold epics

 

I watered many trees, many fields

 

I Plucked folded flowers.

 

Frozen blood had formed abstract shapes of my name

 

My footprint perished.