I am happy as a flower,
pirouetting with the sonnets in the wind,
smile doesn't leave my skin,
I dance under the shade of love.

Blue and then yellow,
a butterfly changes its colour.
I follow it through the tone of green.
Intoxicated by the fluttering wings,
I don’t want this to end.
Our symphony.
Our celebration of freedom.

Often at breakfast,
I savour the piquant poetry
dipped in the honey of your eyes.

Sinking to the deeper suffocation,
I scavenge the soil for the astray nail.
A final spike to lock away the life.

As the light gets darker,
a pungent smell takes over,
smearing everything in its stench.
I descry my melting face.

Air implored perfervidly to break my obstinacy.
I dived deeper,
smiling at its desperate attempt.
Its hope to stop the dead from dying.

My fingers touch the inner debris,
aspiring to find the last nail for the coffin.
A couple of more suffocations later,
I find it;
hidden under the pile of thorns.

I pin it to my heart.
One last breath,
and I ceased at the dawn.

A part of my skin burns,
the other patch numb with cold.
Torn between the extremes,
I crave water.
Hundreds of gallons of it.
Anticipating it to soothe,
to bless the charred insides.

There’s a puddle under the table
or under my hallucination.
I can’t tell.
I touch it with my face, dreamily.
Each gulp as confusing as the last.
I am not sure how to tell
if it can be a saviour or not.

I need the warmth of your skin
to fix the cold of my bones.

I let it out at times,
the tethered soul of mine.
Let it savour the light,
hang in the smoke,
extract the trailing drops of life.

It tiptoes.
Scared to touch every being.
The familiar difference is intriguing.
I let it oscillate.
I let it oscillate freely.
Oh! The dance of the captive!

It floats through the words,
each syllable lumbers to make sense.
Scared stiff of each utterance.
The jibber-jabber could burn the pages
like its inside.

It puffs up. It shrinks.
It cuts.
I watch it bleed in hesitation.
Till it's again confined.