sigh sky high...

clicked a photograph with my eyes for posterity
last time I'd see those lips turning to me
knew from his eyes,
dreamy pair of thickly lashed hazel eyes;
Never do they fail to paint my cheeks in shades of red,
a brown sepia toned picture forming
in the back yard of his memory as well
Faded and precious..
sigh…
There's after all
Sweetness in being
The lost woman
Than the last one
Being his muse
Haunting his nights and fueling his days
Never being wasted even for a second
A romantic aberration that lasts
Never growing or reacting
Only desired and never possessed
A living memory of a
A refraction to reckon with...