As my face looked like a humid grey window in the rain,
The dewdrops all made known to me
That the price you pay for love is pain.

The courtyard that I stared into from my parapet
Was now barren of all its beauty and
Had fruits rotten and flowers dead.

What I had kept in my hand as a token of forever
Now burned and melted into my palm
Like the punctured tattoos of Tribals.

The wound that has creeped into my chest is
Now finding its way somewhere caring not of
What it pierces as it sets down its way for me to find myself.