So be it, such a simple phrase So be it, my calm, my rage I say, while turning the page Of a story, with the devil n a sage So be it, book within the book So be it, why am I scared to look Won't be pretty, the steps she took Turn into a queen from but a rook So be it, would the hype she'd stand? So be it, would my mind she'd bend? Cause I'm told how the story may end Should I still read it or just pretend? So be it, maybe worth the while So be it, more sharp than senile I can hope to go on with a smile Let the story be a please or a rile So be it, let's forget the ending So be it, go back to the reading Can't let a good story left hanging Verity for me, still stands waiting
No, I don't want to write About love, longing, her silence, our fight I don't want to write I won't say that I'm sad coz we're far apart It won't matter one bit, I know in my heart She may be sleeping right now With her head resting on his chest While I'm awake like an idiot With senseless thoughts, one after next What did she wear today, blue or red Was it a saree, a skirt, a Jean or a dress Were her hair tied in a bun Did she sport a pony Was it the day for the plait Or she had her long hair cut I think of her kajal suddenly And of her bangles Her tiny black bindi And the last seen curls I remember her smile Reaching those doe eyes Her playful banter with me Not so innocent lies The feel of her fingers in my hand The smell of her hair What I won't give to hug her Once more without care But I silence further memories Of when she had left Handling the years of agony In which I wasn't deft So, there won't be a poem I'm don...