The scent of a sinner

Published: November 26, 2017

Faking a smile, the burnt cigarette leaving its mark. PHOTO: PEXELS

The fresh roses turn pinker, dwelling outside the garden of the lilies,
The wrinkled skirts smelling of cheap perfume, stinking of midnight sillies,
The footsteps in the empty corridors, the heel to their Achilles,

The birthmark on the neck, the missing toothbrush in the can,
The dust under the shoes, the unannounced dinner plans,
The misplaced phone calls, the green pills on the nightstand,

The children in the fields, playing until its dark,
Watching them live in singularity, searching for answers like the lark,
Faking a smile, the burnt cigarette leaving its mark,

Wandering in the withered winds, writing a memoir,
Tearing the sinned papers, watching the two from afar,
Laying under the blue midnight ceiling, waiting for her car.

Afnan Durrani

Afnan Durrani

The author is currently doing his A-Levels from Cedar College. His interests include poetry, economics, basketball and alot of Indie music.

The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of The Express Tribune.