When she was lying in her bed with running thoughts in her mind..he was on the bed with a woman with running fingers.
I was nothing till I felt you on,
I lived in you, you were my home,
Till the time I tasted that I wasn’t the only known.
The lips which warmed me were not for me all alone,
The hands which touched me every now and then had traces of some unknown.
Puff was different this time,
It had the scent of lying.
Why? Is the word which kept ringing in my mind.
Did I do something vice which made you cross the line.
She- HE is my story.
He- I am a man with stories.