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If my glances were a canvas,
Dissolved in colours of your smile,
In the pale redness of your cheeks and,
Drenched in the rainbow of Dreams while,
Fading into the forsaken strokes of goodbyes,
Skirting the unwithdrawing stains .
Those Stains of You!

If my voice was a refrain,
With broken lyrics running out of symphony,
Murmuring the ruins of your evocative baritone,
Playing silently through the lengths
Of the castellated regions of my Promises.
Intersecting the depths the stains have left.
Those Stains of You!

If my Love was an unpatterned novel,
Blank pages.Scribbled Poems.
Incoherent words.Incomplete preface,
And few unspoken lines
Crumbled up in the tear soaked folds
Melting in the tenderness of the author’s pen,
Unravelling those deep blotted stains.
Those stains of You!

If finally my life was an Art.
Maiden serenity masking the widening abyss,
Impure radiance guarding the naked Hopes!
As I lie unfathomable to many,
But to one,
Waiting to be decoded by you.
Secretly stagnating in those deliberate stains
Those Few Stains of You!

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