Clandestine Nights

Behind the dark curtains
of clandestine nights
reside stories
of silent pain
endured under
velvety blankets
wrapped in disguise
around cotton bedsheets
with aesthetic prints

and then there are
silky pillows
soaked
not in tears
but in the
venomous sap of
crushed dreams
and squeezed desires
retaining moisture
at all times
as the shadows
of dark memories
never tend
to give way
to even a
strayed beam
of hope

and as the night grows
the silence amplifies
the noise of every word
that remained unsaid
and every cry
that remained unheard
and yet another sleep
is thus devoured by the
clamorous quiescence
of a ruthless night
waiting anxiously
for the light of dawn.

-Chhaya