Aftermath

Sometimes,
I wonder what happened to those vivid images
you used to create in every single line,
which would become my insight.

Believe me,
the natural sound of the flow of a river
in your poems is missing
because they used to be like flowers
among the thorns,
and I have stopped wishing upon the stars
ever since no fire left in your words.

Love is blind,
but that doesn't mean you drive yourself
into the corner of the hollow kisses
to fall for his smile.
I understand
that a good cry is all you need
but don't drown yourself in those misty nights.

Remember, who you are...
Trust me,
even on the edge of emotional deprivation
you can give life to that soul
longing for an unflinching faith.