You sauntered toward the olive-brown guitar:
Your armoured sphere, you strum its strings;
Melodies in the room you scatter,
And how the air smells like spring;
You poured your heart out beyond a doubt,
Let me glance at your naked soul;
Swayed that if we start, you’d be devout,
To fill the void, make ourselves whole.
Walking the path of the beginning of the end
Just as I came closer I felt the pang,
Of being let down as you intend;
To smash my essence with a bang,
Had I known, it was all just a ruse;
I’d have saved myself from a thousand bruises!