Art of betraying and crying...

You were afraid to touch me, afraid that I might get scarred.

You were afraid to convince me, afraid that I might disagree.

You were afraid to cry, afraid that I might take you for weak.

You were afraid to hide, afraid that I might get lost seeking you.

More so…you were afraid to die, not because you fear death, you were afraid, that I might find everything a ‘little’ difficult without you.

And there I am, a Betrayer…I betrayed the very fact of your existence!

And now I wish, I could get you back…or at least your shoulder.

I want to cry on your shoulder

But I am afraid that your shirt would get wet, patched up with blue tears,

Or I could just cry on your eyes, without wasting a single drop

But I am afraid that your vision would be blurred,

I want to cry, maybe on your neck

But I am afraid to give you pain that might settle in each of your abyss

I don’t know, I want to cry, if I could, on your spine

But I am afraid to give you the chill

…

Yes, I am too afraid!

And now I can’t do anything…just crying on my own wounds

Maybe they’d heal…No!! They are deepening

My tears are not like your kisses…won’t heal…

Oh, how my heart is racing…tears pacing…soul aching…sadness draping…hurt blazing…

But then how can I possibly help myself,

As I lie here,

I am a betrayer….