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Not so young Fashion Graduate From National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), Delhi, India. Aspiring journalist. Amongst other eclectic hobbies, she likes writing and has written several poems and articles over her school and college life and now for a living. She would someday like to be be a more popular writer than just on her blogs. 'Tis a lady of grand splendor, who waketh in my bed every morning while the sun beckons her towards night...

Friday, August 08, 2008

lecter's lovergirl

He kissed me,

Whilst I lay lifeless,

With cyanide on my lips,

He sucked it back…

As I lay cold, his lips froze.

And his breath became shorter, harder,

I felt déjà vu…

Of when Romeo lay next to me,

Romeo’s regret…

That he took the stab

And never saw his Juliet rise again…

The apothecary’s lie,

That never reached him.

That word of caution,

That could have undone,

The perpetuity of love.

And I realize Lecter’s tale

Will merely always be metaphorical…

Quoted for instances of horror,

Since Lecter is incapable of dialogue

Of last, dying words, of love,

Etched on some writer’s chronicle.

He will only be fêted and ‘hated’

For kissing his own apocalypse.

While His dead little lover,

Will live again forgotten,

Home again,

As her 22nd statistic figure ends its existence

She will commence again,

Of finding the 23rd

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