Scarlet

Scarlet,
  Her eyes; windows to her extinction,
        Midnights, that stutters;
        Blinking brinks, ashore;
  Near seas to dissipation, nadir to submerge, yet too intense

      A cruel bondage, effaced in reflections; 
A tasteless fear, shivering under blankets;
      The truth locks her in a cage, Inflamed;
      Her screams are just a haze, suspended alone…

    Her tears are demons, incarnated;
Imagination choked up and gone pale;
    Palpitations are bonded with dissolution fading to eternal oblivious;
    Veil drapes her, until her masquerade wails palling 

      Rusted autumns and insipid summers,
Vast winters, and daunted springs,
    She lies awake inside self-sublimity;
    Opaque and incoherent; distracted from reality,
Her eyes, windows to her self-made apathy

Transom indulgence insufficient, and ostentatious in her gaze

By Nisha Mirza