Poem

How words which are precious are made void

VOID
Who is it but you
Who said on that day
I love you
Words so precious
Yet so meaningless now

For joy, I couldn’t sleep
Nor could I think of anything
Morning seemed ages away
Mosquitoes were not a disturbance
As one favoured amongst many

Now with tears on my cheeks
Wonder and contemplate why
Words so precious, but yet void
A custom, they have become
A reason for searing my heart