The Bleeding Words

It was a white paper, oh! Her heart was a white paper,

She wrote with the ink of love, she wrote with the ink of passion,

Every word on the white became gold, and so the story began,

Happiness, joy glee mixed emotions she wrote and wrote,

The pages soon became book, filled only with love and love,

Pulping desires melting like fire, she had woven the book,

With golden thread of her feelings, oh! She felt so much,


With time, she felt perhaps much, she got merged,

Somewhere, nowhere, where the words have any meaning, 

The nights are sleepless; mindless her thoughts are many,

Staring the blankness, keeps talking to herself, silent words,

Going berserk perhaps or she feels too much, that curse again,

She is shouting, slamming like insane, the doors to the heart,

Are locked forever, now the book lies somewhere in dust,


Entangled in the web of dying love, and paralytic emotions,

Ego, attitude, arrogance all are culprits they killed her lover,

She is looking for him, amid and across the cells were the,

Criminal lives, who took him so far, far in the loveless land,

She is feeling the pain deep; the words are bleeding dying slowly,

Her words are bleeding; no one but no one can see the red,

The rain started long before she realized, washing away the words,


In the wetness of her heart’s tear, she is standing bare feet,

She needs that one hand of love, lost in the world of life,

Still scribbling on the washed away words, rewriting hard,

Trying to find what they meant earlier, alas! The pages are red,

She has now written her last words with little breaths left in her,

Slowly wrapping herself into that book, if someone ever reads,

If someone ever reads those bleeding words, holding much truth,

Will know the story, love didn’t die on its own, it was murdered………………………………….


*Monalisa Joshi*




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