Like a palette of colors...each color different..yet scared and confused..as it knows not when it will get blended or washed away...

Clouds, Rope, Love

Clouds of love showering down and you rope me in with your wicked smirk.
First monsoon, you and I. Dancing in the street with music so loud. Kicking off my shoes and you ask me if I am Mad. Mad for you, mad in love I say...

Twilight comes in with a purple haze. Drenched, soaked, yet the glow in your gaze. Fire in the fireplace..your guitar you play...for your strings I make up words.

Because when all this is gone...words are all that is left. With silver in my hair and a crack in your spine. Toothless and saggy..the cold and frail hands...It will be will only be words that hold.

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Assigment by Rajan sir.

If you can...

Ask the sun to not rise tomorrow morning...
Ask light to emit darkness...
Ask the cool wind to make sweat beads...
Ask an ant in a rut to take a break...
If you make it happen...

Perhaps maybe you can then...
Ask my heart to stop loving you..

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Ps. Brainstorming for a creative writing assignment :-p