There are days when I am Aishwariya
And days when I am not.
My heart is a frozen, quivering mass in the morning
And a sharp, sliding knife at night
If only I could dance in the sun
I would be happy
If only I could let go of grief
I would be the sparkling light
Darling, this poem is for you
To love you is to be the sparkling light
Photo by Josh Boot on Unsplash