The Grip

I stare at the darkness
A cove of trees
A gate wide open
Faint light in the chowkidaar’s cabin
His tobacco splattered song
The rusted gate awaits its closure

The dark gets darker
I keep on staring
Worlds around
Loose themself
To the darkness filling in
Resting on its chest
Wound in its embrace

I stare at the cove
Footsteps emit from its core
Dark and slender
Tracing a path
That halts beside me

A light grip
Sides down my neck
Rests on my chest softly
Darkness gathers in...