By Swarnali Patra.
She had seen his face when the dandelions turned to straw,
She heard his calling in the howling of wolves at necromantic nights,
She felt his his lips when Jupiter kissed the Earth,
She had him inhabiting her heart when she was in the hollow of foreign arms,
She aspired to reach for him like shooting stars that gravitate to a ground to fall onto,
She wanted to hold him like the roots of the tree they grew up under,
She wanted to see him in a time warp when this catastrophe looked like a miracle.
She craved to place him on her bed like a tomorrow was inconsequent,
She wanted to play the lion for once before she realized that she was a lamb.
He went looking for her in shadows darker than his own iris,
He called out to her like fireflies scream light at his ceiling in the dark,
He has learnt to make love to his demons like he would prey on her,
He held memories of her like the smell of a dead rose in old books,
He went astray from the oblivion to spell her name out on stardust and sleet.
He found her across the skyline weaving clouds that chronicle paroxysm,
He wanted to write her in a re-written epilogue where Jupiter meets Neptune,
He wanted to keep her like you save a snowflake from the warmth of your palm,
He fell in love with the absolute lamb and that killed everything.