Bleeding Ink

By Yaso Manaswini

I poured my bleeding heart out on that blank parchment,

Inking verses with it, as though it'd be an adornment.

Gently holding that feathery quill between my long fingers,

Dipping it in that pot with a forgotten fragrance that lingers.

Solemn sonnets and passionate couplets, I'd written alone

Each word resonating of his love, that's now become forlorn.

Poetry that once oozed from his lips now stand in silence,

As I look past those faded memories with complete defiance.

By Yaso Manaswini