By Barnika Hazarika
Burgundy urn with my lover's life;
Thin slits over ashen wrists,
Where patent stains on my dried petals
Offer a telltale of the mess.
Scarlet teardrops dribble on the floor
Like love potion on diamond dust,
Rare delights of stolen symphonies
With whispers of sweet little lies.
You are lost in a reverie,
A place you have longed to be.
The twinkle of your eyes make a faint call
As you recede into the threads of my life.
Blood-wine graces my being,
Yin and Yang entwined
Is now a crimson knot in the maroon tide.