Souls leave no shadows
And no more shades either.
For, they remain in those
Moth eaten sepias as relics
Of those we may have loved once,
And killed many times over.
Souls leave only holes behind.
“Wholesome holes”;says some in mock jest.
In Wry smiles and ever dried up pearls.
Abandoned shadows on wanderlust,
Ever on an Unrelenting search for shells to nestle in,
Knowing little that nothing indeed fits in.