Roses and Lilacs

By Ishika Aggarwal

With the most gracious of walks

And the most innocently deluding of smiles,

He creaked open the doors to her haven,

With a bouquet of roses in his hands and stars in his eyes.

The lands blushed red,

And the skies a cloudless blue,

Grey butterflies danced all giddy for the roses,

Following his surprisingly sudden arrival.

She adored lilacs, for they were her kin,

The petrichor aftertaste of the rains, her peace,

The buzz of the bees, her music,

Yet she allowed the roses, blues and greys to replace.

He promised her comfort and peace 

As he gave her those beautiful roses, 

A thorn of which pricked her to discomfort,

Yet she smiled as if she’d been honored.

That little corner where the lilacs still thrived,

Screamed helplessly for her to awake,

Questioned her of which peace she’d been deprived of

Before this wretched man’s unsolicited arrival.

Albeit she willingly floated in carefully fabricated dreameries,

One with bleeding hands and a bed of roses,

A scorching sun and salty wounds,

A clear sky yet clouded by false promises.

The bed of thorns had pricked her to death,

When her heavy eyes blinked to a blur of maroon,

Her ears now heard the almost perished purple screams,

Helpless yet hopeful for their past to be their future.

Though her present still flooded red,

Her sight finally cleared of masked smiles,

She drowned him in his own red river of deceit,

And left him as dinner for the moths.

The unending night’s abyss

Was flooded with lavender bliss,

The lilacs swarmed with yellows and incessant buzz,

And the mornings were yet again drenched in tranquility.

By Ishika Aggarwal