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You slash me with your words. Invisible wounds inflicted. I bleed. My blood spilling in between my fingers, from the pores of my body and flows into you. A silent sob escapes my throat.
You dip your pen into me, filling it with my life's essence as you repaint me in your words. You are applauded. How beautifully he writes. So much of pain in his words. How lucky is his muse to be loved so deeply.
But I seem to be the only one who notices that all your words are stained crimson red...
So much pain. Every muse is unlucky. I want to crucify the writer who uses the blood of his beloved to colour his words!
ReplyDeleteIndeed. That happens and it's sad. Thank you :)
DeleteThat's powerful.
ReplyDeleteHere's to hoping he keeps his pieces short and funny. If he turns into Pynchon or Proust, things could start getting ugly!
Amen to that! Thanks Nasreen :)
DeleteWow! Madly in love and deeply in pain...short yet so so so gorgeous read.
ReplyDeleteThanks so so much, Shaifali!
DeleteVery touching. Beautiful. Crisp and soulful words that make the reader experience the Pain throbbing inside your Soul. Good job.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot, Mr Parsa!
DeleteWow..!! You touch reader's heart Aathira, every time you write!
ReplyDeleteCheers
Thank you for your kind words, Geets. I try :)
DeleteOh love that is so painful !
ReplyDelete