Unasked Questions
Yesterday night perhaps
i cried,
Reason is still blurred.
The pillow at
bedhead made me feel the tactility,
How someone was
crying vehemently...
Over and over again
he shows me his intimacy to know the reason of those tears,
Perhaps his cottons
are still drenched...
The crinkle of bed
sheet alludes toward those malaise inflections,
How someone was living
suffocative...
Both narrate the inquisitiveness
of darkness,
How she was waiting
for dawn to see my tears...
Morrow arrived after
the sorrow,
Perhaps the same I,
preparing to go out and to explore the answers of all these entangled questions
so that I, my pillow and my bed sheet would get a sound sleep...