By Akshara Jayan
When did it start?
It was a glance which cut across the mountains,
The offings, and the moon.
She knew it was better to speak than to die,
So did he.
Love is hard; confessions are harder.
She knew it was a quagmire
But she couldn’t stop.
Sneaking through the windows,
Over the woods, there lies her heaven.
Some thought it was dalliance,
But it was elixir, euphoria, panacea.
One day, with hoods up, she went.
There lies his bloody cardigan,
Tears in her eyes.
She wants to be the Joan of Arc,
He made her the Juliet.
Does it end?
No, it was for eternity.
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