The Blind Lover

By Vanya Kaul

She turned hearts to stones

but was a thief of mine 

An ethereal artist 

with a fanatic poet,

our souls intertwined 

If I could, 

I’d take the brush, and 

make her my muse 

Unfortunately, I can’t 

So, the words in 

my dusty diary will have to suffice

and delineate my obsession

with the entirety of her 

I am burnt, by a desire 

to stare into her cold eyes 

and be sculpted, just so I can 

admire her perpetually

and give up 

my blind act.

By Vanya Kaul