The Archived Loss

She is lit up,
With that unmistakable careless frown,
Aimed at the sleepy-eyed world.
A breathing alien world.

She is lit up,
With the blackened intent of pain.
The remnants of her charred resolve,
Have huddled together to keep her sane.

She is lit up
With the yellowed glow in the dark,
As the overhead balcony lamp,
Bathes her face in incandescence so stark.

She lifts up her face,
To gaze deep into his eyes.
A dream drunk clairvoyant she has transformed into,
Predicting the perishing future.
While the light brown in her eyes,
Sprinkles the still of the vaunted night.

Then she averts her face,
From the probing threads of light.
Only to peer silently into the wet dark,
Drilled deep with the glinting bullets of light.

He is lit up,
With the fiery cherry glow of a Marlboro.
Sucking at the minute life,
Which burned with the quest for burning something else entirely.

He is lit up,
With a wordless jibe at his crude form.
A congealed core.
Solidified through the passage of time.
He has decided to brave the storm.

He now burns, 
With the lamps of the night.
An unchangeable rictus,
He now burns up,
With the stealthy languid glow,
Eating him up insidiously inside.

His perspiring fingers,
Glistening with fresh sweat,
Lift up of their own accord.
To feel her wiry smooth black locks.
To find themselves caressing the cool in them,
And parting them neatly and gently,
Behind her ears.

He tickles her chin with his thumb,
To watch her blush a deep crimson,
And laugh her subdued laughter,
Which is still a crackle of joy.

How he wished to immure that moment in his precious vault of memory.
To possess her and yet set her free.