Periphery of us.

The pond of breezy footsteps,

The eye of solitude kiss knitted from the colours of pinkish sun,

The ripples of love making in the caress of my hair,

The dusk jotting down the sidewalk with your colourful shadow

Like the blue vintage chair adorned, safe.

You kissed the demons from the whites of my eye,

Like stars blasting colours in the horror sunken sky,

Red, orange , and my heartbeat

Struggling through the narrows of connive heart, the chains of numb finger, into the periphery of you and me.

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my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

11 thoughts on “Periphery of us.”

    1. I was about to shut my eyes off and then this happen.
      Thank you Chhaya for reading this. I still am planning for a break or so from writing.
      It’s always a thrilling feeling to hear from you.
      Much love.:)

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