The fool that she was

She wanted to incarcerate him

In that closed casket called Love


He who conquers the explosive suns

And violent moons

To him love is like a field of poppies

Red, intoxicatingly red


To her it is life

Bursting through cracks in the wilderness

A grapple hook to scale mental walls


And she wanted to confine 

An ebbing wave in a blue bottle

As a message to his soul on the other shore

The night he uncorked the bottle

And let her soul out 

To fly free with the fireflies

She died many deaths


To him love is freedom

Bird feathers, horses, and the sky

To her it is a fence

Protective and regular


Her love meant music to him

Unabashed kisses without consequences

Dreams and imagination uninhibited

A self-effacing madness

Time and space forgotten


He meant everything to her

Her past died with him

Her present lives with him

And her future begins in him


She loved bondage and slavery

When she was binding herself to him

And his destruction meant hers

Love was her suicide bomb


And he stood for a silent minute

On a crossroad

The wind grinding the earth and sky to powder

And he took the other road

Away from her


He set her free to fly

“The earth is huge”, he said

“And the sky endless.

Love is a pitstop not the destination

So fly little bird!”


But how could she

Her wings clipped

Her heart too heavy

Dragging her back to the earth

She still stands there

Waiting for sunset

When all things will pass

And everything will fall in place

With a death and a prayer.


~ Mathangi

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