Story that I tell...will always be incomplete!

How do I let you walk on my lawn
Would you only appreciate the sweet scent of flowers

Won't you see the crown of thorns, Though
My story lies not in the colors your inquisitive eyes see,

I feel I am betraying more than I can bear

Let you peep through a page of my book,
Sacred, what if only in my heart
Those delicate pages, are they not
The folding leaflets of a touch-me-not, Your soft hands,
Wont they leave behind finger prints

So I tell you only the highlights of my story
Letting you take the highways
while I guard my dirt filled country roads
A story lies in its minute details, So I bury my story
Away from all the archaeological excavations
Your interviewing eyes can dig.

And you smile

That bitter taste of lemon

Like a river flowing downhill, mere water

That accomplishes nothing

Another kite cut heartlessly

Where do I collect the remnants of that colorful flight

In this hollow dark night

A big lie, when they say

It’s all in the journey

Only meant to pacify the losers

There never is a middle ground,

Either you make it or you don’t; history will tell
Only that your run was not good enough

Did I actually see it

Or was it just another mirage in my desert
Beautiful but not a part of my story any more

And you smile, is it the end of a road

Or that of a journey, unkind future
to give a small hint.

This ain't my story

I don't say that these words are my own
Or that they have never been written before
All I say is that this is how I feel

Judge me not for nothing is completely true
For what you see is what you want to see

Love me not for what you feel is me in a distant past
For thoughts change, people change

The end.

It is said everything has its natural culmination,
But what happens to the stories that come to an abrupt end?

Audience is left to its imagination,
But what happens to the characters, are they just to wait for the director who never returns?