The stream

A broken heart,Bleeds tears.But it’s thoseUnder her eyes,That fascinate meThe most.How they crashOnto her skinFrom the oceanOf her eyes.Raindrops,From the stormsWithin her.How they glistenLike a streamIn the fall.Only a stream:Is full of water.Her tears:Full of words.Words:That weave poetry,As they trickle.Down her chin.Into the etchings,Of my palms. © Shanyu Bihani 2020 This is a follow-up poem…

The angel to me!

I wake up in the mornWith my eyes so dampA knot in the stomachAlmost like a cramp. I walk up to the mirrorExpecting a look as sore,But they are just the feelingsThat are crawling up my core. And the previous mishaps that are Irrelevant today,Are trotting to my silly mindIt’s something I want to say….