“Like rosewater in my palm, her broken promises lurked,
Promises are pleasant, yet how long can they hold water?
It leaks through the fingers, trailed by reflection,
The promises drain away, leaving me thirsty again.
I have given up on unfulfilled promises,
Yet only their scent I detect.
I never knew that eyes possess such power,
That hurt and slaughter, yet no wound is left behind.
Once, asked about her, I retorted in anger,
I would wish her to thirst, yet I do love her so.
I lay awake, sleepless nights, counting the grains of sand,
Though her beautiful face, lured me with her eyes.
Pity that we have become strangers in this life,
Familiar faces we no longer recognise.
If you owe the gloomy nights unfulfilled debts,
Then now is the time for you to repay,
I held out my hand to you with tentative hope,
Yet you thrust out yours to turn me away.
Between us lie all reasons for love,
But the main reason was that my heart was deceived.
My heart is like an open book,
For her to read the secrets, written in silent words.
Her heart denied my entry still and, like a heavy door,
It remained locked and sealed, for ever more.
Like rosewater in my palms, her broken promises lurked,
Promises are pleasant, yet how long can they hold water.”