His hands found his way
into the chain of my kurti
Tracing my face
with shades of red and blue
Squeezing my swollen wounds
like he always did.
He made his way down
But his hands stopped
on a sharp metal bright
glistening from the
only source of light
Tugged into my patiyala
Was my freedom.
His eyes stared at mine again
only to be reflected by my own
His hands shook along with his head
As that sharp metal entered his shoulders,
hands
and stomach,
twisting
I squeezed his wounds
and whispered in his ears
"Death really did seem near."
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Scythe for my Love | ✔
Poetry"When death seems near.. " A tiny tale of woman and a man being victimised. Who was the victim? Who was the lover or was there any? Did the relationship blossom like roses or just left marks of thorn? Click read to find out.
