Since I have been in this earnest kind of love, but in a distinct region.
Every instance of the day passes, there's a distant affection.
That is holding on to its presence in its dream's essence. 
Adhering to a surrealistic soul, only to keep her silence.

Since I'm a powerless person, I'll never know if it'll be possible to be in my possession.
An abstract painting that is not meant for me remains an illusion.
To my whole being, I am deep inside of this angle of seclusion.
For only God who can reunite two souls and two hearts with the same form of passion.

While writing these words, my soul is softly detaching from my body.
It's not the ink of my pen that is persistently breaking, but I am.
Your distant heart, I can never feel using my sensory.
And with my withering heart, that will never be undone. Love is gone.



© Razda J

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