Shreyasi Podar
She would miss him,
But her time here was over,
She was needed somewhere else;
She stretched out her hand,
Even as duty pulled her farther and farther away,
Till her long fingers were all he could see;
She would be back soon, she promised
The fiery tip of her nails slowly fading away,
Leaving his face to be swallowed by darkness;
She came back the same way she had left,
Hand reaching ahead,
Wanting nothing more than to warm up his blues to a radiant gold;
Sweet and vibrant
She brought life back to him,
Until the continuous cycle threw its shadow once again.
She would miss him,
But her time here was over,
She was needed somewhere else;
She stretched out her hand,
Even as duty pulled her farther and farther away,
Till her fingers were all he could see;
She opened her lips,
The promise sitting ready on her tongue,
As she tried to choke back a sob;
She watched him helplessly,
Her hand still outstretched,
There was nothing she could do;
She tried resisting the pull,
Fingers reaching out,
But there was nothing she could do.
There was nothing she could do,
He watched as she struggled,
She watched him as he watched her;
The fiery tips of her nails faded,
His face was swallowed by the darkness,
All quicker than usual;
As his face hid behind deepening black despair, Her glow was replaced by his shining tears, As the epiphany of what he had done struck him;
Her hand had been outstretched,
His had been by his side,
But she returned, duty forced her to;
She returned, as a mighty ball of fire, His tears still shined, but they were outshone, She was the sun and he, the sky, was on fire.
Part II. Fires Setting
She was the sun,
And he, the sky, was on fire,
And that’s where this story should end;
But she was fading,
Her hues separating,
Melting into the waters beneath;
She did this often,
But that night, it was different,
That night, there was no promise to keep;
Her fire faded,
And his darkness deepened,
And soon there was nothing to see;
He thought she’d return,
Or maybe, he hoped that she would,
Or maybe, he felt it was her duty;
She’d thought that once too,
But now that she knew,
She realized duty was but an illusion;
The cycle was a trap,
’Twas a never-ending loop,
One she had put herself through;
And every time, she’d fallen,
And every morning, she’d risen,
Only to fall prey to the illusion again;
But after nights and nights of falling, She realized she could