You don’t speak your mind,
And you pretend to be ostensible,
Befriending silence not giving away any clue,
Holding many storms deep inside you.
And those deep doe eyes,
Always searching and anxious,
Though it appear to stall in a ring,
Yet jutting away with fluttering wings.
And that smirk,
Like you have consumed fear,
With many shades of gray,
Covering the soul to forget the betray.
A hazy convulse of mixed emotions,
Ready to leap but restraining,
Entwine in some bereave grind,
Raring to break free, but you won’t speak your mind.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah