A winter sun
And her lazy mittens
Her neck around your arms
and her legs wrapped around yours.
You could feel affection in her eyes
And in her unknown emotion
That took you beyond herself
When her guards were drawn.
She held you close
Like a part of her own
Inside her. Deep within her
Secured in her embrace
Her silent nothings
That only your eyes heard
And her florid lips
That held onto your deepest fears
and made her own
She gazed at your bare soul
And submerged herself
With your sorrows.
Her breaths played
along your shoulder
like the desires in her mind
Which Echoed like a million raindrops
through her skin and her sighs.
Her name was Scarletta.
We have spent many a nights
She was beautiful than reality.
She was someone I could never find.
And her lazy mittens
Her neck around your arms
and her legs wrapped around yours.
You could feel affection in her eyes
And in her unknown emotion
That took you beyond herself
When her guards were drawn.
She held you close
Like a part of her own
Inside her. Deep within her
Secured in her embrace
Her silent nothings
That only your eyes heard
And her florid lips
That held onto your deepest fears
and made her own
She gazed at your bare soul
And submerged herself
With your sorrows.
Her breaths played
along your shoulder
like the desires in her mind
Which Echoed like a million raindrops
through her skin and her sighs.
Her name was Scarletta.
We have spent many a nights
She was beautiful than reality.
She was someone I could never find.
4 comments:
There was a sense of serenity to this one. Beautiful.
I should come here more often. I like reading you :-)
Thank you shruti. Yes come here often, there are a lot of purane posts too which you might like. Try them sometime.
Dear Ausdrucklos,
I am happy to nominate your blog for a blog award.
Please check my blog for details.
regards,
Apeetha.
Synesthesia one of the most difficult and subtle arts that exist yet you use it to the fullest in this particular piece
"Her silent nothings
That only your eyes heard"
Just tells you of the sheer magnitude of love and yet you wonder was it this very love that made her unattainable or was it the boundaries of the self?
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