Unfinished story
We were writing a story together Until friday was a sudden twist That barged in like a twister from sea. The pages still remain immaculate From where we dropped the pen And they still smell fresh. I'm not sure if I could continue It's an intricate chapter to cover With letters of stained innocence. Each time I muster courage I spill ink Dribbling into a thin stream of whoop, All the more giving repeated nightmares. Even if I happen to finish one day I'm not sure again if I'd find any listeners They say diversion is a detestable plot. Perhaps I would just stop here And move on for better or for worse.