• prakashpkdskd 24w


    I am the prisoner,
    Of her black tresses,
    That keep falling,
    On her face.
    Making it look,
    Like moon,
    Behind the clouds.

    I long to be,
    Captivated again.

    Be wise, they said;
    She casts spells,
    Through her smile.
    And now, when I have,
    Fallen in her trap,
    I know nothing, and,
    I long for nothing,
    But to be captivated again.