Strips of sand slipping from between my toes;
Wet sand.
Waves in my hair
Glistening silver on fingers
That contain the shroud of a black sky
My sandals float away.
I laugh, let go
He laughs too
Urchins fish em back
He fiddles for change in his pocket
Doesn't any
Quitens them with ten buck notes
We're alone again
Stalled in time and space
I look to my side
He'sn't here anymore.
There's not a thing that catches up with the stab of lost love.
Nothing has, nor will


Tanvi said...

reading ur blog after a long time!! and this is a good come back!

Krish said...

stab of lost love...right..stab is usually gross but it sounds almost poetic...yes nothing matches the bloody stab...