Aconite heart, opium dreams,
Empty eyes and rustic touch,
Last ounce of my thunder have been consumed.
Gamble on beats, thrill of a kill,
Measured words, masqueraded feels,
Of innocent scent sweeter than Aphrodite's perfume.
Silver drops, acrid blood,
Predatory stance, the arrow struck,
Guarded under the skin, even my bony hearth was deficit.
Little did I know, I was the prey,
Of your aconite heart and opium dreams,
Lord knew, even a titanium armor couldn't protect me.
© Samiksha Kemwal

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