Over the last few weeks, I wrote a few short verses of love. And since I’m in an especially sappy mood today and I felt like they all had to be compiled somewhere before I accidentally lost the random pages I wrote them in or accidentally deleted them from my socials. These verses are very personal and very close to my heart:
A heart so selfish,
Only wants more of you.
Is that such a crime?
My heart has been fooled,
But I’d gladly let you,
Endlessly, till the end of time.
You’re the blood-red of poinciana,
Of dying embers on the hearth,
Shades of scarlet and burnt sienna,
A truly invaluable work of art.
Tinged with carmine and crimson,
Like the words we left unsaid,
Bright and warm like the rising sun,
Our love is the colour red.
I could try my best but in the end,
No number of words written,
No amount of ink spilled,
No volume of pages filled
Can compare to
My love for you.
They all said they’d die for me,
Empty promises they couldn’t keep,
And yet here you are,
Making it all look so easy.
Handing your heart over
Like it’s better off with me;
So here’s a promise not-so-empty:
I’ll live for love, like love shall for me.
I keep telling myself
I’ll shout your name from the rooftops,
Carve your name into eternity,
Tell the world you’re mine,
Whisper to you, ‘I’m yours.’
With you, I see no one else,
I’ll love you ’til my heart stops,
With love to last infinity,
Ever thine, ever mine,
∼© Shubhangi Srinivasan.