It was a small kingdom,
where knights were melodies
and violinists fought wars.
The queen was a god,
The king was a devil -
Golden braids and rusty swords;
Blood lines in rivers as the silk swam.
The farmers wanted a beatific ending
but the neighborhood stole their roses.
The wind smelled like summer, the queen's heart was books and poetries
and the king was a stranger in a library.
Ichor for blood, oranges for sugar.
The court singers were triggers
of those guns that children played with.
Bottles of wines and fire in kitchen,
Needles in a vase and primrose on the bed.
It was so noisy in the room as the queen
watched the ice on her roof melt.
It was so quiet on the battlefield as the king
lost his sanity, crying on the soil.
Sins were the Queen's favourite genre, so she
cut open her heart and tore away the pure pages.
The servants brought greasy ribs
on the King's dinner plate;
The Queen drank ink served in a glass,
blood on her dinner plate.
The life in her stomach kicked,
hidden in darkness, the freckles forming,
shrieking for revenge not milk.
There was a demon in the castle,
it was The King and now
he was gone for a battle.
The Queen was the exorcist.
She loved sins. She loved purifying them.
But she didn't know that the King
was sinning for her.
~Sampurna
YOU ARE READING
Ink And Echoes
Poetry♚ ❛ Juliet, Tell me what is it like to vanquish - When you tossed the coin, And stepped on the battleground, With the accent of swords. Still you stand, Hands dripping of sin. In search of Romeo, You killed, And killed, And died. ❜ { Highest rank in...
