by Afzal Moolla
Making tea for two,
alone.
Tears mingling with the Earl of Grey,
desolate.
A heart shredded,
leaving only wasted murmurs,
wasted breaths.
A soul hardened,
all alone.
A heart aching,
to beat.
The heart slips,
among scattered stones.
Afzal Moolla
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Afzal Moolla