In my breaths,
the dissolved ashes of your love are left somewhere,
it raises itself, and covers me in the dust,
when the known wind, with the smell of your, blows.

This nostalgia,
of love, cut me, in pieces,
like divided particles of broken mirror,
it trembles me, shakes me,
to crave for the ideal love,
and the trust in love dies.

If forgiving,
lord of past would heal me and drive me to the past,
I would die, hundreds of time, but would save my love, for you and trust in Love.

©nawaab

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