When the town was painted in red…
I readily graced a thorn festooned bed
Passions rose but wishes died
Dreams thrashed and heart cried
The clouds wept with umpteen tears
Sea waves shivered with my fears.
I looked back at forgotten aisles
Where winds freeze, mountains collide
The rains fell as the burning flames
Blood stained love was all the game
I wrapped up all dried, died blossoms
Ah! Red was the color of my bosom.
I bleached my world then, until white
Blood flushed it pink, visual delight
My silent cry, lost in the edgy stream.
Love turned serene, an armoured gleam
All passions burnt into smooth of ashes
You ignited a Phoenix, beyond smashes.
Ah! love was colorless, tasteless, pure
As water it drenched your heart’s all shores
Till the day you met with that black soul
Amidst the birds, one who cawed foul
Now, love is neither white nor it’s red
Ah! It’s dark, dried oxblood, I revered!
Love is a transcendent feeling. Not earthy but ethereal, not infernal but elysian! Beyond passion, above infauation! But, at times it swindles us of our essence. A poem…an ex post facto…
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