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!
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