That Was His Love.

He silently slips in,
The intoxicating dose of his love.
In his own sweet ways,

He adds and subtracts colors.

She ought to love him,
And more.
He ought to let her,
And more.

He speaks little,
Does a little more.
He hides the sea,
And controls the storm.

She falls in love with him,
Over again,
Each time they meet.
And he lets her.

That intoxicating love,
has her addicted.
The story continues,
And she feels drugged.

He adds more colors,
And thinks of more.
She lets him paint her,
In his love.

He tries harder,
to bring down the moon.
She embraces.
He tries.

She remains inexpressive.
He tries.
Until it forms a symphony,
Pushing her to participate.

And colors keep making,
new colors.
On their own.

by Geetanjali Saini

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