By Aashiq S – India
@seamless_self
Red asked the way farers,
Where are you headed to?
In no time he was flying and got smeared,
To the surfaces of unseen throbbing.
Strangely it wasn’t the blood of clashing labels,
Unrestrained hierarchies,
Or the staunch hunger,
But the dissolution
Of hearts,
Perhaps joy is a madness,
A need of the hour,
Hues are born,
Dancing with the air,
As souls intermingled,
In shades, flows, and flowery hugs.
Masks are replaced with colors