It is so cold here without you, Asha. Even for a winter king. They fear who we are, and who we shall be again. I cannot leave her here alone, sweet one, but know that I haven't forgotten. Two angels enthralled, our crowns worth less than the tomes on our shelves. When war and politic came, and all we wanted to do was serve the dreaming and each other. We carry it still. These letters of love. I do remember you, my wild one. I remember both of us, and I care little who knows it. I am with you forever, my love. Let them ponder our antiquity. Veins of summer, breath of winter. But I will never kiss you coldly. You are the reason I'm here. A dream beneath a dream. A secret within a secret. And so I roam the night, trapped, agonisingly free in a city of ghosts. All is haunted without you, beloved. All is darkness and ashes in my mouth. But I do still remember. The scent of old literature. The scent of you. Your eyes in the candlelight, so blue that I would take them as my name. How you could always thrill me with just a look, a kiss, perched on the edge of eternity. My cherished girl, I hold your heart with every tenderness and I honour the love in every poem you write. As it was, my love, in the place before time, I pray it shall be so again.
Come the Colours from Raj Sisodia on Vimeo.
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