I walked past the bottomless lake,
Towards the meadow that shone under the moon.
The eerie silence made me want to stop,
To halt in my path and don’t follow the tune.
But how could I bring myself not to indulge?
For I knew my patience was thin.
The scent of violets lured me,
Weaving a trance for me to live in.
The warmth of the heart told me
You were there, holding onto your sorrow.
I pulled you in an embrace, swallowing your mistakes,
Consuming the woes that were mine to borrow.
Neglecting my own melancholy, I reached out to you,
And succoured you out of a broken space.
You held me close, and the scent of the violets
Affirmed that it was my place.
The way you guarded me, the way you held me,
Made me lose all my sense.
For I believed the maze of deceit you built,
Never realising that it was all a pretense.
You walked out on me, leaving me perplexed,
With nothing but to blame me and regret.
It was then I realised that you were strangling me,
Forcing me down in your net.
The wilted violets, the shattered panes,
The sticky wetness against my cheek.
They all tugged me out of the reverie,
Making me fall from a peak.
The sound of your footsteps from the dim passage,
Told me it was all a walk down memory lane.
I saw myself on the ground, pale and limp,
And sighed in agony, for I was free from your chain.
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Hello, I am Pratha Sachdeva.
Wordplay is an escape for me; I write to create a world for myself and for the people who think escapism isn’t so bad after all. Inspired by my favorite poets Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allan Poe, I try to explore the themes of struggles with self, death, love, nature, and the links between them all in my poetry and proses.
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