A wizard of words,
he created from nowhere,
a wonderful space;
        the novelist made
        his characters play out his wishes,
through every little action, he penned
felt euphoric beyond words.

When one among them
 clearly his blue eyed girl
on whom he showered a lot,
his thoughts, writer's craft
             and  much much more,
  to make  her
  well shaped, a cynosure,
unexpectedly
turned cheeky and crossed limits,
the novelist got terribly annoyed.

*In the dead of night,
during a rendezvous with her paramour
the character had a
horrifying end.
She fell prey  
to an assassination plot,
hatched by the  patriarchal novelist

.

Seven months wasted, because when I think
Of us, I think of the day you
Told me I wasn't thin, and the nights
You would tell me to leave you alone
And the next mornings where
I was expected to be in your bed
Followed by the day
You dumped me because of a
Pregnancy scare,
And how I was always too
Childish
Or how I wasn't allowed
To hang out with other boys
The day I dyed my hair, you said you liked it better
Before, and when you got mad
Because I didn't want to ******* right when
You wanted it,

So when I think of
You,
I think of seven months wasted
And no, I don't smile

if I were a cactus
would I be easier to take?
because you could see
where my spines were
where I could hurt you
and you could hurt me
where I get my food
and where I lay my roots
so that you knew everything
and I could only steel myself
would you like that?
to be in command?
fully-responsible?
just remember that I can wait
through the longest droughts
and only die when the rains
come

.