By Prerna Lama
She came bedecked, bejeweled,
Cloistered in vermillion,
To a fairytale.
Her prince, attired to perfection—
She looked at him,
Her eyes demure,
Cajoled and coaxed by brown eyes.
Those eyes now cold and dead,
Repulsed by her
As she lay,
Without her baby in her arms.
Her baby, all of six months, had
Passed away in her womb.
The kicks and tiny flutters
All dying down.
His mouth, spewing venom,
Blasphemous toxicity—
And she, drowning and sinking
Into the dark abyss of his hate.
The hate, shrouding, entangled—
Asphyxiation was her solace now.
Love had germinated into hate,
And she lay in the vortex.
The fairytale, long over.
Au revoir to it.
Hate compensated love.
Summer turned to winter,
Winter to spring.
Yet she remained clothed in hate,
Entangled and enticed,
Writhing in agony—
Like a snake,
Waiting for numbness,
For the deep abyss.