My lips received a kiss of love
When you called me the abode of love
A love in which neither you nor I became my beloved
Songs like these were never sung
All those who were upset by our union
All those flowers lost their love
Questions arose every moment about the arrangement of love
I kept cherishing your simplicity
Where you did not become the flower,
nor did I become the fragrance
Perhaps I did not plant such a tree
Even that unfortunate moment seemed like poison
Your color did not reflect in it
Your form seemed so absorbed in ambush
A picture in which yours did not emerge
In which you were not the art,
nor did I become the stage
I have never shown such a drama to anyone
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 😊🙏 @vikbuddy
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