Samya's Space

Shades of pink around her feasted eyes Soothing, loving words and every comfort material and otherwise that a mortal ever craves velvet at her feet, spacious luxury motors carry her No one scorned her, or was scorned by her I wake up from my daily nightmares to the real one filled with yells, scoffing and insults And resort to pretence of sleep as no more can I do of any result. Flogged, abused, spurned, dragged I stand forlorn on a crowded street Passing eyes jeer with inquisition, I feel like screaming out of it... Her sweetly admired repertoire of intellectual thought my deranged mind in all a baffled sort Her kind, thoughtful words my depth-less jabber, spoken to impress Her recognition and love my shame and hateful vows I feel like strangling a weeping girl with the hands she'd use to wipe those tears I spit the filthy scoffing back at the world with the lips s...

As a child, I believed, that the Sun was mine and He followed keeping His bright eyes on me sharing the happy warmth with me I felt nothing but haughty But now I know, it is not so, because I got to know the Lady Moon She's the love of Sun's life and in the light of His affection She shines, her face beautiful, reflecting His love showered over Her Yet I noticed each and every dawn and dusk She demurely leaves as He arrives She leaves...He arrives, they never pause Lovely Moon's silent plea was never heard by a soul but me, since one cloudy night she sang to me in her voice of sweet melancholy, "Oh, for true lovers were never united and those united were never true. Dear, such is how true love shall be Now is not too late to learn than never is..."

...so she let the glove mask the pain She sat in that corner the usual he looked, and went on as usual to sit down a bit further away They had to themselves the two darkest spots of the stuffed hall to observe Her expensive muslin the tender milkiness of skin sparkling embedded emeralds around her neck Nay, that wasn't where it lay but in the eyes that remained downcast through every dance unaware of any eyes watching hers Always wondering into the depths  of the seas of faces unknown to her He saw it This last day that he saw her his ears caught a whispered sob escaping her  secured by the wind brushing her wounded soul, a question that hung forever weighing on his mind. She was murmuring to herself ‘Yes, they say they’re only lines on my palm but was it only me who saw two destinies intertwined?’   A sigh escaped him. retreating, he muttered sotto voce, 'I will not have the last dance, afterall.' ...

The Angel...was Black... nondescriptly dressed,  with curly hair,  kind eyes in a plain face that was bruised and bled as she tried to cradle me out  holding tightly on to me after she got me safe out of the rubble and the debris  of the crashed car Can it be true? Were not angels fair and their eyes blue? Sashaying in her dress glittering like the moon? with a face that God only could have drawn? Why did they lie to me? my favourite character in the cartoons was the pretty angel or the fairy because no one could match her superior beauty why didn’t they show me that angels looked just like me…