By Lalhriat Kima
Huntress, sent from drifting clouds above,
Seen shifting from one prey to the next
Lifting their misted secrets thereof
And keeping it at bay – Until you went away;
Leave them laying, empty and vexed
Independent though you feel you are,
‘Cruel’ is a word that befits your charm.
Countless are the unreturned affections
To the love your preys displayed,
Who draws ever closer to you
Like ants do to fallen sugar
One hundred-eighty different names,
All of them burnt up in flames,
Each time you return to your wanderings:
And not once yearn for their passing
Without shame, chasing that fame
By Lalhriat Kima
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