The color red.


Once there was a boy,
And the other a girl,
Everyone thought of them as one,
Yet no one wondered what they thought of themselves.
Thus began their love story,
A love deeper the anyone could imagine,
Too much was their love,
That the two of them drowned in it,
There came a flowing rush,
A blood, that had them both,
A blood, their own,
That killed its own,
Standing there,
They thought of each other as foe,
That missed the real foe,
They bled and until all the blood was on the floor,
Little did others knew,
They’d incarnate themselves,
And so they did,
And again went through the same fate,
And on and on it went,
Until the boy have had enough,
he turned towards her, and murmured,
Lets move on.
The girl could not,
They stayed there in shimmering night,
The girl cried, the boy grew cold,
Actually, he wasn’t cold,
He acted as one,
Standing there in the cold,
The wind freezed in his ear,
For days and days and days,
Waiting for the sun to fall on his face,
Little did he knew,
He stood on the sun himself,
Years of waiting made him pale,
Desperate as he was,
He started pretending he saw the sun above,
Everyone did so too,
After all, they are killer of their own happiness too,
He lived under the shadow of pretendence,
Until, one day they met again,
He looked at her,
While his ear rang of a sound,
A sound of escaping drop joining the pool of dead,
There she stood, Still bleeding,
He took the next drop in his hand,
And moved away from his place of sun,
They it shined again on his face, as it rose,
He took her love for his own,
There she stood, from behind,
Starting at his lover, not her own,
She watched and bled of her own blood,
While, he took another’s girl in his hand,
And suddenly,
A drop fell,
Finally declaring the death of her,
He had moved on,
Like he said,
And she died, bleeding yet still,
Her blood still runs below our ground,
So whenever you see a red spot,
Look closely,
You may find her love in it.

-Naba Mehdi.

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