The Burnt Gladiolus

Yeah , she forgot something ;

although forgetting was not her thing

yet she forgot something

Forgot to look at her palms

palms that were ready to clasp the tightest ropes of life , fight the most deadliest fights;

yet turn dreadful weary days into

soothing gentle nights -

for the souls she loved, she was ready to go that extra mile ...

But then again, she forgot something , although forgetting wasn't her thing ...

She forgot that her palms were made of flesh and blood, not of copper scrap

and that it would only take a prolonged painful tight clasp, to make her skin corrode, and her heart erode.

It took a thunderbolt for her to realise , what she had forgotten -

she had forgotten, that she was holding on too tight to something that was loose as wind; she was in a scrimmage with her broken dreams!

And when she finally turned over her palms she realised that she's utterly alone and wounded with no one, no one to apply the ointment cream!

All this time, all this while, she's been living a helpless dream.