DUSK, THE BLUE DUSK

The dusk of your complexion spilled,
over me just like Kohl.
Slow, Silent and Pitch dark.
this Kohl seduced every moan of my eyes...
But tears set you awash,
and yet you manage to linger,
with lost sheen but with a
peaceful hint of presence.
somewhere around the corner,
of my eyes.
these moist wet eyes of mine.
Ah this moisture, these fine dew drops,
on which you walk bare feet.
how blessed its existence is
to roll under and kiss the skin of your soles.
Oh let me be this frivolous drop of dew
And not a mere trickle of a tear
Or the kohl, proud and blackening.
Let my presence not be imposing like them.
But do let my soul wither under your soles.
let me simply loiter like a lost koel in dark.
Under the glowing dusk of your complexion.