I Miss You

The flower seems to be magnificent,

Which was cut and dry yesterday,

The distances seems to be tyrant,

Which were a daily will yesterday,

Breathing in and sigh was the onset,

Now at the end the latter left,

Alike the showering clouds that regret,

Two parallel lives whose chores cleft,

You used to be the divine mediocre,

In the slept winter of indolence,

Dying blood on tiled hate ransack soaker,

To withstand the trauma of your absence,

The unhindered voice of you utter,

The abuses to the pious ears,

Didn't you ever hear my heart flutter,

The ache and sigh which alone became tears,

For the very last hour of us,

Break all the snare kept for down lips,

Be like a lamb which loves your fuss,

And for the last minute tighten your grips,

I should not live with a friable thought,

I should not sometimes call the inwrought love,

For you to cognise my tone naught,

Your crest of pride shouldn't shove.