I have detached my cellophane dreams with your cold shiverings
Sustenance to moments invite a vaporizing acceptance
My breaths carve my bones as I count the stars,
Hopes can be delusional, hope can be aimless.
It only moulds the opening of my bosom
where a stack of anti-oxidant hid.
The penumbra of opaque sunrays never lie, it portends a fact.
Under the quietness of my mole, a layer of satisfaction arise
Seepage, Integration, Addition.
My skin kisses my lips, I sit and watch the pervasive love
Inside the language of gods, a clock of soft murmur arise
Trusting the humans once again,
trusting the pillow talks again and again.