Her laugh

She laughed
but it was hollow,
She threw her head back
but seemed to be throwing it
in her hands.

Her soul has forgotten delight
her wings, forgotten to flutter
her heart, forgotten to jump
and her eyes, forgotten to be soft.

Her eyes, their beauty at par with diamonds
yet, only stone.
Her arms, their softness at par with feathers
yet, not allowed to be touched.
Her bosom, as motherly as it could be
yet, not allowed to cradle

Her laugh was rhythmic
like being forced out.
A sound on which,
she seemed to be choking on.

It didn’t quite reach her eyes
and every time she laughed
a piece of my essence came off
like a shard of glass.

Or maybe,

she was just being polite
and my jokes weren’t funny after all.

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7 thoughts on “Her laugh

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