A slithering raven wave perched upon the eye,

ensconcing it in a spiral of sooty magnificence;

waltzing along its contours, set to her swing:


A flimsy line sketched daintily with a twirl in the tail

for the days bubbling with nostalgic childlike innocence,

a bold streak darting alike an endless winding road

on buzzing, frenzied days that could spill into the next,

a smoked, sensuous stroke doused with shimmer

for an impetuous night of pyrotechnic passion,

a sodden smudge resembling a gravely turgid rivulet

for a few moments of pure, unshackled vulnerability,

and, the remnants of a disheveled scribble of a tot

meant for languid sundays spent cuddling up to a book.


The kohl exudes no charm when bereft of an eye to enliven;

fated to be mercilessly outshone by its scarlet cousin;

yet serves as a loyal aide, seamlessly blending in