The Missing Piece

Talking to myself while strolling on the road,

Throughout teenage, of love I always thought

As a wonder or as some kind of magic,

Life without which should feel so tragic.

 

So I started creating some theories of my own,

As I was spotting a mirage of love unknown.

Attempting to find it at all the wrong places,

In beautiful accents or in mesmerizing faces.

 

And then I saw a different light in my life,

Striking across with a power I couldn’t fight.

Bestowed upon me like colors on a canvas white,

Making everyday’s dull things shine warm and bright.

 

But black turned out to be the color of my heart,

And one brush stroke wrecked the whole chart.

Now I am more blemished than plain I was before,

And there’s nothing left of me but my hollow core.

 


There’s no color now,

Nor is any light.

Life is just passing by,

With the aid of an oblivious mind.

Your light broke the mirage,

Slipped reality of love with such ease.

Now my life endures a timeless void,

With you being the missing piece.

 

4 thoughts on “The Missing Piece

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