You used to be beautiful.
Your eyes were happy and bright.
Your face filled with creases from your immaculate smile.
Your hair was long and carefree, made for the wind.
...
Forty days, you say you need.
Forty days and you'll be free.
Forty days and Forty nights.
Forty tears and Forty fights.
...
I was hesitant to take the first step out.
Eying up the beautiful being standing before me.
His arms open and mouth moves.
I could feel the intensity of the chills his small fingertips gave.
...
I do not consider myself a poet, just an outspoken person.)
My Key
You used to be beautiful.
Your eyes were happy and bright.
Your face filled with creases from your immaculate smile.
Your hair was long and carefree, made for the wind.
Your hands were small and soft, yet had the strength to hold the biggest key.
Your eyes have faded, now.
The smiles turned down.
Forget the wind.
Your hands became weak and dropped the key.
The key is gone.
You are gone.