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6

Poetry

Longings

Devanshi

The bait of saying yes to harmonies never ceased to flow through his blood.
A blunt stare couldn't suffice, their carcass was already hollowed.

This evening, he was seen in the garden.
Before a flower could wilt, he picked up another from the fallen.
Thriving at the sight of familiar mercies by one’s side, he sewed them together.
The blood still flowed.
So did the harmonies.
Together, they foreshadowed every possible fear that would infest,
Yet it all happened in the blink of an eye.
She never saw it all occur, as it must.
Then, he shows up.
And, I stand still.

The last honors of his abyss were drenched in shards of mercury,
They confessed cohesion in a language native to them.
Were never convinced to stain their hands red.
So she stood there as an eulogist,
And he didn't show up.

To be a witness, and never testify-
Is to be a double edged sword,
And never leave a scar.
Later that day, a sonnet was written for every longing which crippled.

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