Beautiful ruins

 

Let me sit in my ruins

The reflection that might look unmanaged

I am it though, I am still a breathing story of love 

A tale of being for others

Others may not be ‘others’ in my story

They’re mine, for them I have given without much of a second thought

My tangled hair have crumbled stories of unshed tears

My untidy clothes share the secrets of preparations in the name of love

For the months I was cornered,

For the walls my heart learnt to grow

For the life I lived,

For the joy I spread,

For the times I was the curtain to their secrets

For the times I was the spark of joy, just needed

I am the reason the good exists

I am the proof of love.