Crimson red soaked in a glass of wine,
you flavour the moods of everlasting longingness,
with a heart so inanely simple and generous
I remember you in my tipsy appearances
Strands of gold, you dazzle and shine,
never shying away from the charisma you wear
drawing me thus, closer
and the faint smile you not -so- subtly carry,
lingers upon your cherry red lips,
I remember you and feast upon deceiving ideas
Creases of yellow and of orangish red,
a flare of light burning—
the unwavering passion that you cause within me,
I remember how I am to remember you
Blue like water,
beaches and the resonating sound of waves that greet us ashore,
where the sands meet—my heart soils into this unknowing ache dropping a beat less steadier;
the rhythm of my strung heart is no more in compliance
I remember you in my deceptive self
Perhaps, this memory I make of you
is not the memory I am to picture;
for this strung heart is a fool of romances and ideas that never seem to subside
I remember you and feast upon it
In my, for my, deceiving ideas glorify.
-Shweta Kher
IT'S POETRY. IT'S HISTORY. 