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?