Her Side Of The Bed

By Mahima Pahwa 

I burned her side of our shared dreams,

In the twilight’s hush, where silence screams,

The flames danced with a mournful grace,

Turning shadows into a short-lived embrace.

Her whispers turned to smoky sighs,

As embers glowed in tear-streaked eyes,

The quilt of love, now charred and frayed,

In the fire’s grip, our memories swayed.

Our woven light unraveled that night,

Each thread, a story, now lost from sight,

By passion’s fire, grief played its part,

Leaving my heart scarred.

Her side, a garden, scorched by flames,

Where roses wilt, and no one names,

The beauty lost in ash and dust,

Betrayed by love, and broken trust.

The bed, a canvas, blackened void,

Where dreams once bloomed, now dreams destroyed.

Yet in the smoke, her essence stays,

A ghostly presence in the haze.

For nothing can erase the song,

That lingers when the night is long,

In burning fields of memory’s tread,

Her side’s alive within my head.