Emptiness echoes in her earnest eyes and yet i i find my sinister spirit enchanted to this vision of hers, that is vague, devoid of demonic darkness and filled with this inexplicable radiance, a light that nobody else can see, she does something to me, this new girl who has joined my hostel on Friday, the thirteenth of this month. And i might just be falling in love with her, you never know, or she might be soaring in my love too, you never know, i believe some feelings are better left unveiled, suppressed. unsaid.
There is something too right about this girl, I find myself lost in the chaos of her confessions and her curls that tangle themselves after hours of straightening. She wears kohl, too dark for the fifty shades of grey prevalent in her eyes, and a lip color too purple for the redness in her blush. She talks of little infinities and seems perplexed about paper towns and the thousand splendid suns that shine behind the walls of her soul which is too fragile for this world, and too strong for the universe that stirs under my raw, vulnerable soul, filled with heartbreaks and disappointments and ambitions and ideas of a nineteen year old human self, She is this perfect combination of everything that is too pure for this world, a plethora of Hazel Grace and Hermione and Elizabeth and Jane, How is she that magical, I do not understand.
I knew it!
I found her little black book of ideas and imaginations (that honestly looks like a death note diary) hidden beneath a pile of clothes and books near my blue study table, which has this burnt mark on the left-hand corner, it wasn’t there till last night, or was it? And what was that little blue flame i saw fuming last night? Was it a dream, reality or something in between, i do not know,
I may never know,
This little book consists of gibberish, stuff, symbols and figures indecipherable to my mind habitual to words of Wordsworth and Shelley and Keats and Rowling, it talks of unicorn horns, hair of them giants, toes of dwarfs, and some other stuff I don’t know anything about,
Am i going crazy or is this real?
Is my life turning into a Harry Potter Movie? Or is it real, Am i dreaming,
I think so,
I may never know.
I am awake this night, I wish to know, and this little monster called cupid, it lurks under my soul, for it has lost its senses to these spells she uses,
But is her magic limited to the limitless sky, is it responsible for the cold sun, the collapsing skyline, these different shades of darkness and the abrupt rain-showers, is she the reason why people run away from me, Oh, wait! they always do that, who would like to have their obscure imaginations being read and observed by a poet as shitty and a writer as witty as me.
She knows i am awake,
Knows i know what she does, knows that i know why moonlight does not flicker over our stranded selves, abandoned in our own aspirations, why darkness reeks in this midnight, of hopes that haunt my self and i cannot stop shivering,
She looks at me and there is this inescapable infinity of nothingness, I find myself losing in the labyrinth of her love and long for the lonely hand of the clock that chimes and yet no voice comes out. It is still, i shudder in this silence.
The stale blood in my veins bubble as she walks near me with a steady gaze, I wish to redeem my soul from her demons and yet, i don’t , i wish to drown deeper in this treacherous trance and this impossible possibility of our little forever, a mortal and a magician,
Would I survive this?
As our cosmos collides and the empty canvases of our occupied minds blur into togetherness and everything fades away in this magical moment, we burn in passions of love and magic, dark magic, to be exact, plotting together on how to take over the world, But is it not okay?
As we burn together in this,
Together- that’s what should matter,
I am stupefied and the world around me fades, the apocalypse is approaching, i can feel it, the hurricane, the storm, it’s all there, stirring around, inside us, all around.
I wake up the next morning and she isn’t here, or is she?
I am too bewitched for epiphanies, too ecstatic, too lost, but i am alright,
At least, Still a mortal,
//Written for a competition, February twenty fourth, Prompt- You realize that your new room-mate practices dark magic, write what happens next.