The butterfly painted bowl 
In her tender hands
filled with calm and clear water
reflecting her face 
Those capricious eyes… fell upon the ink pot 
dip by dip...dropped just three drops
at point-blank range
Ripples on the surface
stirred up from the bottom 
the colour of the ink dissolves like 
faded fog 
Ripples in her heart  
Tearing the rhythm of silence
The pain needle sharp
stirred from within dissolves like the faded ink.
Pa…….in. So unkind.
Till the last speck of moment 
hurts, bleeds, pulls back, spurts out, and burns
like an incompatible friend.
Blended, brewed, simmered and finally taken in...
The pain, the enraged beloved melts but
to stay on like a companion for life! 
