Happily, Ever After

By Garvita Singh

Beauty confessed.

Yes, she professed.

When I went beyond me, until the possible supreme,

With you I then met, way past the subtle extreme.

Towards some good I headed, and inevitable bad.

I saw a little merry and I saw a lot of sad.

Within some limits, I broke many boundaries.

I caught pink butterflies on old yellowing trees.

Indeed, I wrote garrulous gibberish on a few pages.

With wobbling knees, I stood with you on stages.

Tell me, did you see?

Do you remember me?

I made some strokes for a beautiful painting.

I withstood a scar near my wedding ring.

I was scabbing and I was sound.

I was lost and then I was found.

There was reminiscence from the past.

They were happy to be forgotten at last.

He stood still.

The Beast with horns.

A cactus modifies

it's leaves into thorns.

The cactus wants to save the moisture,

that it knows it cannot find around.

He too, refused to open his leaves up,

for the fear of collapsing to the ground.

This black slog that is caged in my ribs,

It is pounding back and forth always.

This dark and dry heart of mine,

is already full of gory glory and rage.

Beauty, it drips, it melts away,

When I look at your fish eyes.

Lashes like the silver and golden rays,

From each night and every day rise.

When I drenched in the storms,

I was damp and desperate.

Despite despair and dismay,

For you, I held onto some mist.

They drowned into an ocean where pebbles never skipped.

They stepped into puddles and bubbled happiness.

They squealed in some corridors of the past,

And whispered about vulnerabilities that grew less.

It was different, distinct, and divine.

It was definitely definition-deficient.

It was defying, deforming, and derailing,

and it was deliberately deliquescent.

They ascended on rollercoasters of mischief.

They walked barefoot on green sward.

They snored beside a fireplace and

The world felt cold against the warmth.

They ran past lampposts on endless roads

Of emotions that were never taken before.

They crushed autumn leaves beneath them

And told each other of funny folklores.

From the jumbled jungle of words,

Did they let out those three from the zoo?

No, they never felt like they needed to.

Yes, they never told, “I love you.”

By Garvita Singh