Submissions open for Beetle Magazine's November Issue

Love that Lives.

 By Ayan Jain

Her best friend, her lover.
All future references to him would be made in past tense.
Despair and gloom were the only ones who stood beside her - 
The shadows of her tears by the moment getting dense.

Emptiness had consumed her cheerfulness..
It was as if the Moon had covered the Sun;
There was nothing she could talk about - Just stress,
And no one she could talk to - Just a desolated young woman.

A young woman, a part of whom had, forever, gone.
And it was a piece of her that nobody could replace,
He was the only one.
He "Was" - This was a fact she just couldn't face.

And her face was dead, and the void in her heart a dark abyss,
That all her friends tried to bridge.
But how could she even think of bliss,
When joy itself was far across the edge.
Hope was clearly absent.
Just like HIS warmth. 

He wasn't here, but he had never really left - 
Her mind, or her heart.
The girl realized this even as she was bereft:
Love never dies, It's an eternal art.

She kept him close, and did what she knew he'd agree;
She disowned the darkness and then "there was light".
His memories gave her a new smile, and once again a reason to be;
The Sun had finally outshone the king of night.

1 comment

  • I loved the way you expressed your thoughts, and ended on a positive note. keep it up! good luck!

    Archisha Vedha

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