The stream

A broken heart,Bleeds tears.But it’s thoseUnder her eyes,That fascinate meThe most.How they crashOnto her skinFrom the oceanOf her eyes.Raindrops,From the stormsWithin her.How they glistenLike a streamIn the fall.Only a stream:Is full of water.Her tears:Full of words.Words:That weave poetry,As they trickle.Down her chin.Into the etchings,Of my palms. © Shanyu Bihani 2020 This is a follow-up poem…

The good, the bad, the me – an Ekphrasis

I was an angel once, Soft wings. Blue eyes. Knee- deep in thought. Next, I was Lucifer, Hideous. Robust. Knee- deep in thought. Times changed. Stars twinkled. I was a mere someone, Knee- deep in thought. I’m not an angel now, Not dulcent. Not calm. I also am not him, Not reckless. Not dark. For…