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“Your hands are the mosaic Which holds the pieces Of my Soul, Broken edges of my heart, Fragments of my grief, And a prism that contains Everything that I ever wished for, Buried and bruised in wounds Of all the colors that there are, In the spectrum of our bond You and I shared.” — Bakht Ashraf
Your hands are the mosaic
Which holds the pieces
Of my Soul,
Broken edges of my heart,
Fragments of my grief,
And a prism that contains
Everything that I ever wished for,
Buried and bruised in wounds
Of all the colors that there are,
In the spectrum of our bond
You and I shared.