The King’s Duvet

By Ashira Niranjan M

The blood-soaked mud,

feels like a king’s duvet.

Oblivion as sweet as honey,

felt closer than required.

Soot prevailed with the dark clouds.

In the smoke laced air,

I noticed the scythe glinting,

like mercy in between a vicious fight.

Scrawny hands- a gentle caress to my soul,

my eyes beginning to dim.

The unwinnable battle coming to an end.

And yet,

my hand twitches as my mind tries so hard.

So hard to delude myself to life.

Saltwater traced silent symphonies on my cheeks.

I lay still watching my last movie.

Angles painting a faint smile.

But she never left,

like a splinter in my finger,

an eyelash in my eye,

a scar from a time so far,

a cry that still echoes in my hide.

Hope never left,

A rhythm created in every slow beat.

And I couldn’t help but wonder

if Pandora truly did let

the fleeting beauty free.

By Ashira Niranjan M