Unpaintable

Unpaintable

The morning dew dropped on your eyelids selflessly,
As I beheld my passion
to myself entirely,
The fog around each corner of togetherness signalled a farewell,
I could easily touch your eyebrows
or survive for a while in a familiar smell,
but I recalled the last line as penned down by the poet 'good bye cannot be painted',
Ever awaken dawn told me quitely' no more
emotions can be rented'
I could hear the lively resonance
of the river of apathy flowing nearby,
I raised my head and my being
to find you still asleep with an average grin on your face,
It is not the occasion to repent or fantasize
because by this time I loved
to believe with my heart that a "good bye "cannot be painted.


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