In between splinters-

There, scabbard within our gossamers,

Where we hid tucked in sheets

And our arms meek in tether;

Tried to fool us-

Out of night’s existence,

With our tiny traced hearts-

Wishing scared for a lull.


In between those arms-

I felt whole your fears,

Infusing potency to my antimony.

Just us,

And those there walls,

The grunted thuds-

Leaving pleas in tears

And the stark contrast-

Of rained black smears.


In between silence’s choke-

The walls grew morphed,

Slowly warping, neither out nor in;

Emulating those beating throbs-

Suffocating from within.

Then came our awaited lull,

In which walls returned vapid

And our venations to them go.


In between slinked steps,

I picture you there-

Swollen from these nights

And my steps fill out-

They walk me

To that lurid, lurid taint.

I become like the man-

Who inlayed this sinuous tapestry

In our own home.

I use his vices vigor-

Make it my own.





In between my hands,

Comes the cold, cold metal-

Cradling me to myself;

Fog sweeping dense behind,

But you are there

And so is she.


Only Then-

Do I realise what I’ve done.


In between these veins,

Sweeps thick a blood resounded;

A blood shared in anguishes ache

But a blood that mocks:

Calling me and him one

But saying nothing of us,

You.  Sister of Mine.

That I never had.

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