He is quite as a Sunday morning,
The silence is ear deafening
It makes my heart miss a beat.
He stares ahead, wide and blank
I try to fill in colors of life.
His fingers caresses my face's outline
I try to form a faceless smile.
He longs for me, wrenching his heart
Tearless cry lumps my soul.
I lived his past , He misses me now
He tries holding my shapeless hand,...