The gleaming rings that adorn her slim fingers,
The earring that dances oh so nimbly like she does;
Grace and agility at their peak,
Even rocks melt when she speaks.
Her dresses, modish and enticing; every eye on her lingers.
She smiles endearingly like a princess but the people call her queen.
She climbs her way to the top discreetly,
And never succeeds to discomfit herself even momentarily.
Her eyes that hold a million constellations in them, embellished with those glasses,
Pull the ground away from our feet as we only gaze like cows as time passes.
And oh the way she holds him so close,
As though she might lose her favourite jewellery,
To someone better, maybe me?
Only if she knew, only if…
How I sat and watched her wrench everything I dreamt to embrace, cherish, feel and obtain.
How she replaced me like after the storm does the calm rain.
How she managed to become a better version of me; the best one I must say-
Flawless, impeccable, totally beyond compare.
And oh how she wounded my naive heart After she took him away,
But who could blame her? After all, she is a piece of art.
Oh but,
As I maunder through my rainy days,
Past her pretty face,
I discern something obscured inside of her,
Something rather dark.
Not evil or vile.
But affliction.
Something that my agony,
Not my envy
Could recognize.
Maybe she is not all just pretty and fancy,
Maybe her life’s not all just joy aplenty,
Maybe her heart is not as light as a whisper, unburdened and free,
Maybe she is somewhere broken too,
Like me…
~ Riddhi Chakraborty
Notes: Even the finest of people can have nasty scars.
Swan's Labyrinth 