Gorvachove, Keonjhar, 19 August 2024
It is a crossword
Yours, against mine
As the crescendo of the voices begin
I ask, you, my Carmine
What I am
What I would be
In the blink of your eyelashes
A miniscule droplet
Upon your chest
A carnation
A bud
Of roses
I would be the dream inside
A bed within your eyelashes
9 across, 5 down
Garnets, tourmaline
And your favorite darkness
As amnesia takes you
Searching for the brilliance
Of the day
And you looked for the cue
In the boat
Lost at midnight
In your soul
You solve
9A, 4D
Of dreams
Without words
Upon those loved places
Where faint visions,
Of veins
Become the clues
To your moods
In indigo
In blues…
