Why mask what hides on your skin? A puzzle of a chaotic struggle, You call that love?
I call that life. Endless struggle. Art made of scars. Red with blood, honey, black with sorrow.
I’ll come for you oh my friend, with kneaded bread and sweetest wine. You’ve suffered enough in these places so cold.
I’ll sit with you. Exchanging silence for love. Is that enough?
It’s enough, if I can watch you lie in embrace with the warm hay and a fire to tend to you.
So then come, my friend. Let’s meet under the stars. Like old times. Like forgotten times. Let’s live again. Without fear.
Let’s taste grass, fall off a hill. Snow kissed cheeks and let rivers be so still.
Let’s play games for two. And laugh mindlessly. Let’s just be, you and me. The world can melt for now, while we watch.
Let’s hide behind trees and lie through the sands, run along the daffodils, let this madness creep for our hearts it fills.
And you words, they drill. Like ink on my skin. They leave a beautiful imprint on my heart.
I’m not here to stay, mark my ways with dagger on willow. Promise me, you’ll stay so glee, never look back or down below.
I can’t promise you glee. But I promise to smile even if warmth flows down my cheeks.
~ By Varun Chakravarty & Mitchelle Rozario Jansen
Checkout Varun’s other works on http://stateofmaroon.wordpress.com/