Hide well my love,
For tonight is
only pain and death

that sun will again
rise to a fearless day,
And across the
broken cities
and deserted hopes,
I will come to you.

So what if
my fingers no more
comb through the
madness of your hair,
or press the soft
sadness of your lips,
So what if I die.

My words will
love you all the same,
From the forgotten
pages of an old book
that still remain
with you.

© Arindam Dey

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