burnt diaries (or, posthumous accounts of the apocalypse)


I see red all over- bloody wounds.
Last night was hard on both of us.
I see black out there- insomniac blindness.
Sleep is a stranger to both of us.
I see green around edges- mouldy letters.
Last loves still hurt fresh for both of us.
I see yellow outlines- nonexistent hope.
Illusions can only fool us so many times.
I see white layers- afraid skin.
Last breaths are hard for both of us.

I see you. Broken, hurting, dying.
You see me. Choking, lost, dying.
We see a glow. A trail. White. Yellow. Fiery.
We close our eyes. It is time.
We kiss. Breaths in sync.
Fainting, even as the world grows louder,
Even as the world turns quieter.
Reassured that all I see,
All you see,
Is each others' eyes,
Each others' smiles.

burnt diaries
(or, posthumous accounts of the apocalypse)
Written by Yash Raj Talan

[note to self: every apocalypse shall find for itself a story of mending]

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