Song to Parveen

I stand upon the wet rocks,
staring into the muddy river.
The wound in my soul will never heal,
my memories are seered with pain.
No drug has made it lessen, that came from poppy or lust.
Your strong arms that nursed me,
are they now the anchor that weighs down my will to live?
My beautiful Parveen.
My husband: Let my loyalty to you be my burial cloth.

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