Macabre Love

When thy soul becomes rivulet,

Calm and soothing, my soul then,

Doesn’t fear to die and drown,

Time and again, remaining beneath,

For long and yore, with wrinkles,

On the skin being soaked into,

Your wetness neither hurts nor,

Aches, but seldom carried away in,

The ripples of your mind, the waves,

Oft! Pang me and shove me afar,

From where my soul awakes,

Soon gasping for air, feeling the,

Breathlessness, and my choking soul,

Struggles hard to swim and escape,

Why the same water then becomes,

Uncanny! Whilst that hand is again of,

Thou mercy, and yet again impelled,

To bottom to drown one more time,

You want me to be sunken into,

You forever, like a soul in a rivulet,

Of love that flows from your heart,

Thy macabre love is it, I wonder must…

*Monalisa Joshi*





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