Sunday, December 13, 2009


Lying on the soft, dewy grass,
facing a sky full of stars,
the moon stood out.
Her mind shouts.
Suppressing it she thinks,
there it is.
It's whole again.
Sliced, and sliced again.
Always managing to shine through.
And now it's whole again.
That must take some strength.

She blinks.
Isn't the shooting star more like her?
Falling constantly,
the sky unperturbed.
Making others' wishes come true.
Her fall representing his victory.

She shuts her eyes and pictures you.
Her 'prince charming.'
Remember the royal blue?
Why does it dye her so stubbornly?
Snatching her chance away disgracefully.
You were her moon.
She now has to settle for stars.
They twinkle and vanish.
Sometimes fall.
Absolutely untraceable.

But you keep finding your missing pieces.
She can't bear to look at the full moon.
She needs her due soon.
A crescent.

You steered her away,
she came back.
You cut-loose,
she's now on fast track.
You told her to think, to consider.
You gave her a chance,
she gave it back.

Forgive her,
she doesn't understand.
You always thought it out.
She felt it out.
You know you did too.
She shouldn't argue,
you know so much more.
But what could she do.
You touched the core.

She's young.
Her mind's easy.
If you reached out to touch her face,
and your shadow got there before you did,
she'd shiver.
She could tell,
even with her eyes closed.

The stars are happy kneeling for the moon.
With dreamy eyes they give in.
Happy being secondary to its aura, 
its beauty.

She gave up on you long back.
But that crackling sound just wont go away.
Every time you pretend.
Every time you circumvent.
Every time you try so hard.
There are shards of glass,
that rip through her.
Drowning her in her own blood.
Deep, deep crimson.
The moon, the stars.
They all drown.

She somehow gets up.
Staggers in her dangerously high heels, 
towards her 'friends.'
Towards the air of intoxication.
He sees her now.
Doesn't look away.
He sees her denying her beauty.
Rebuking it.
Nobody can tell.
No one can read his mind.
Is this it?
Her closure?
Something crackles again.

Long nails, wrapped around carved glass.
The red lips are brought to it.
It's her chance to lose herself.
Or find herself.
He seems unshaken.
She always wondered,
where all that composure came from.
It was nerve-wracking.
But she was always nervous around him.

Her body moves to the rhythm of the music.
She takes it all in.
He approaches her,
takes her hand,
and says his goodbye.
His face meets hers.
He leaves.
She looks around,
is this a masquerade?

She gets out.
Looks up at the sky.
There is no moon.


  1. "You always thought it out.
    She felt it out."
    Hit the nail right on the head.

  2. Wow. Thank you :)
    Do I happen to know you?

  3. WOW!!..
    amazing stuff...
    and i love the RED.
    its perfect...