WANDERESS

The poetry you wrote continued to pile up in your scribbled notebook, never to be read. You wrote about how her eyes freeze like ice and shine like diamonds when she calls herself irreparable. You wrote about the concoction of paradise and hell in her eyes, and how you can't tell the difference at night. Perhaps that was what made her so beautiful, timeless. 

You loved her for the way she never tried to fight with show of power or violence. She was a gallant champion of gentleness and tolerance. But you loved her for the way she never let her guard down either. You loved her not for her features, no. You loved her in the way that kind words slipped through her lips, her voice mellifluous and tender.

You loved her for the way the iris of her eyes changed hues when neon city lights played kaleidoscopes on her face. You loved her, for she refused to fit into any mold. She could never be fit into a perfect description. She was a raging fire, stubborn, inextinguishable and bursting with colours. So you loved her in all the shades of the universe. You loved her in the way burning stars loved the bland night sky, and you loved her in the way that she loved to be free. And that was who she was. She never belonged to anyone , she was uninhibited and self- ruling. And you could always love her from a distance away, but she would never be yours. She was a wanderess, always waiting for a new adventure, and you were but just one. And you will watch as she bleeds, her agony evident in the boldness of the scarlet pigment. It will become a part of you, inscribing itself upon your skin and pierce into your heart only to fill it with an unforgettable ardor. She will flow through your veins until you will finally decipher her; by then, it will be too late. She will be gone.

The writer is a grade 7 student of Sunbeams School.