a few days have made me older
i don’t recognise this place
and the nights keep getting colder
i do not remember your face
stories of how it used to be are told
while we lie cold on the grass bleeding
they take time to process how it goes
the pretenders just watch seething
lets give it a shot one more time
lets forget all the rest at the haven
maybe this time i get to call you mine
no need to quote the raven
your dreams are a lie
their words a facade
i am yours till i die
pulling it off with panache
मंच 