Through Her

I don't even remember the last time
I felt with my own heart.
Guess I never did. Because,
I don't remember that organ ever throbbing with hurt.


Her whispers linger in the air around us,
Shimmering shadows, and for once I'm whole .
Her confessions of love, so chaste,
That they sear into my undeserving soul.


Oh, how did it slip my mind...
I do not have a soul to begin with.
I never did. That's why I never dared utter it back.
Not even in the cool silence of this frith.


I stare at her, as awestruck as ever.
She didn't need to sell her soul to the devil
For nothing, did she?
Atleast, I can say that she did it by will.

...

Continued in the paperback edition...