What would you answer,

To a question you cannot say?

To a question so harsh,

It proves your dismay.

 

Here, under the rain,

Among words left unsaid,

You can’t help the whisper,

Of poems you have read.

 

Sparkles, specks of dust,

That fall from the stars,

Through the numbness of the sky,

Landing on shattering whispers.

 

 But if you were to chose,

Between quiet and sound,

What in your silence,

Makes you scream so loud?

One day, you asked me,

Your eyes deep in mine,

“What is it like to live in beauty?

To live a life that would be fine?”

 

I couldn’t help a shiver,

At the sound of the name,

Of gold, jewels and silver,

And all that comes in shame.

 

“Life,” I replied,

“Doesn’t work that way,

Why would you ask, when,

There is nothing to say?”

 

But still there is gold,

And jewels and silver,

For a name that would exclaim grace,

For something as irrelevant,

As beauty.

No matter how hard he’ll crush you,

No matter what he’ll say,

The fool’s always going to be in your heart,

No matter how much you pray.

 

Yes, he’ll hurt you,

His blue eyes will make you sway,

Because love’s just a battlefield,

And the roughest, they say.

 

I’ve heard many stories,

And those, of all kinds,

The true and fierce ones,

And the thoughtest of the all lies.

 

But your story hasn’t been heard,

Among so many other,

But what would you say if I told you,

That he won’t even bother?