Ours was a coincidence,
A tale of right and wrongs,
A fiery battle to be won; hence
We left our hearts in the open, hung.
Emotions ran high, senses tense,
In a race to find where we belong.
Hate and love became sides of the jacket rinse'd
And laid out to dry on a fragile line of fate for too long.
Drained out of juice by hesitation and pretense,
At the moment I realised where to belong,
Thanks to the sun for giving me confidence.
But fate, fate came with a tong.
And kept us on separate sides of a fence.
Love, I felt, was where we belonged,
But the other side of the jacket was drain out of affection. Thence,
Hate was all that was left, and my confession was left on the tip of my tongue.
