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poetry | White Blank Page

(based on Legends by Rose North)

It is a jolting question,
And her reveries obliviate away:
‘Have you ever been in love?’
Her silver eyes breeze agape.

The leaves rustle with the cool wind,
The woods burn in the crisp air.
And Aryn blinks once and again;
To the Cold War they were both heirs.

Her voice is dazed while his is deep,
Drifting into the caves of her ears.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ he asks again,
And she disbelieves what she hears.

Tempted to question his stupidity,
Temtped to deceive him in her defence;
But foreseeing the failure of her attempt,
She draws a breath and says yes.

The thriving forest lullabies,
Gently cradling her to sleep,
Guiding her to a world of no limitiations,
Where impossible does not breathe.

He turns his head, she feels his eyes;
Her own eyes on the empyrean above.
That casts the golden bars on them,
The oak tree shading them with love.

‘Who?’ he whispers quietly,
His whisper rough as the wind.
And she is urged to snap at him,
Because in his love is Aryn ginned.

A tight grimace and much a thought later,
‘You know who,’ speaks she.
‘I don’t,’ he denies,
And she is left with much difficulty.

‘Catharyn,’ his voice whispers,
And Aryn’s heart twists and soars.
A sound she thought she’d never again hear,
Her heart drums a beat from long ago.

A beat of a song on the stars and the moon,
And of the darkness in between.
The song that to her her mother singed,
And she gazes back at his eyes so green.

‘Alexandrius,’ she enjoys the name on her tongue,
And his eyes widen just a fraction.
‘Have you ever been in love?’
He asks on the third occasion.

She turns to her side and ignores her pain,
He continues to stare at her.
His lips are parted and a soft expression,
One that she can never decipher.

‘Yes,’ Aryn answers again,
‘Who?’ Sander repeats.
‘You, I love you,’
Aryn grits her teeth.

Her gaze is defiant as she holds his,
No regret allowed space.
And Aryn’s heart hiddenly marvels,
At her new and brave admittance.

He breaks his eyes and his eyes wander,
Down the length of her body.
And she was exhausted and in so much pain,
Elles her cheeks had been ruby.

She drinks his dishelleved semblance,
His looks tattered and worn.
His face stained and bruised,
And he looked beautiful never more.

He turns to his side and edges closer,
His hand lifted and Aryn freezes.
He brushes away her black hair,
And gently wipes her bruises.

‘You’re bleeding,’ he tells her dully;
Aryn fights her urge to cry.
They are battered and bruised and she is scared,
And that is all he can recite?

His warmth presses against her lips,
And Aryn takes her sweet time.
Her eyes flutter close and lights explode,
And she’s never felt anymore sublime.

Her attention is undividedly on him,
On the feeling of midnight under turning galaxies.
Her heart is close to imploding in her chest,
And as they part, they are panting and dizzy.

And Sander laughs a musical laugh,
And it’s a sound she hasn’t heard in a thousand years.
But it’s also the sound she’ll wait another thousand years for;
Sander leans in close again.

‘Catharyn, I love you,’ he tells her,
And Aryn feels so lost.
Because soon they’ll have to stand and run,
And fight, no matter what the costs.

But then again, that is soon and this is now,
A rare moment of peace in the burning world.
And though soon death will resume its chase,
Aryn is content and so is Sander.

They are two in number and so are their options,
Run or burn in this world so new.
But they both know the trick and they’ll do it together,
It is to not let the fire catch you.