where were you

when the world ended?

                    it was but a fraction of the end.

                 all because i met you, i’m afraid.

always so afraid, you.

why?

                   because you stood at the very

                               edge of a cliff,

             heels offered to the wrath of it all.

                         raging sea reaching out, 

                      tides thirsting for your skin,

                     and you were looking away-

                                  looking at me.

                      you had blood in your hair 

                                and tired, tired eyes.

                          i feared you to be the devil.

i didn’t know you

to be afraid of the devil.

                           i am not afraid of the devil.

                              i am afraid of the way 

               i started walking towards that cliff-

                             walking towards you.

                because the second i saw your

                                 bloody, tired eyes,

                                  i could not stand 

                          being away from them.

                              i am afraid of the fact

                             that when you jumped,

                           i didn’t hesitate to follow.

                             i am afraid of the cold 

                          that gripped my stomach 

                                      at the idea 

                       that the sea could have you

                                     before me.

is this a love confession?

                                      isn’t it always?