1:
He remembered it clearly, like it was just yesterday.
Under the crimson sky, he had gazed in her eyes.
The moon’s pale beauty, how his fingers grazed her skin
Those ruby eyes, those tangled wires of her hair tresses
That moonlit face when she looked at him with love
That fiery spirit of hers when he held her in his arms
2:
How tender was the feeling of being in her bare arms.
But the night changed fast, now a lore of yesterday.
The crimson sky rained fire in the garden of love.
The fire of the lantern turned dark and cold in the eyes.
It suffocated now. How burning were her fiery tresses?
Holding her now, the flower now bleeds the skin.
3:
How he now sometimes sees her old self in his face and skin
Seeing her smiling in the mirror, he engulfed her in his arms.
A leaf branch weaving inside, he saw her tresses.
He looked at the smiling face in the frame just yesterday.
He saw her smiling, sitting on the bed, waving in his eyes.
Calling him with the tip of her finger, Come, my love.
4:
Like a moth, he ran to burn in the passion of love.
A window cracked, and shivering traveled in his skin.
His beloved—now the blood dripped from her eyes.
Her now thin arms moved forward to engulf him in arms.
Their pictured frame it shattered which was of yesterday
Her hair grew; it came to hold him tight, her tresses
5:
As he suffocates, captured in her barbed tresses.
Like a moth as it burns, he also burned himself in love.
He remembered her bright burning love of yesterday.
Her lingering form on the bed; he again grazed her skin.
The rose stings, but it’s his rose; he engulfed her in his arms.
Under the crimson sky, he again stared into her eyes.
6:
He framed the skeleton in bed as she was in his eyes.
The leaf branches framed the skull just like her tresses.
Feeling overwhelmed, he took the skeleton in his arms.
As the skeleton rocks the chair, he watches his love.
Skeleton plastered with vellum, so he can graze her skin.
He painted the skull’s lips red to see her smile from yesterday.
Envoi:
Now always close to him cloaked in his arms.
Near to his eyes, looking at her tresses with love
He grazed his lover’s skin just like yesterday.
I am a 19-year-old native Urdu poet from Pakistan. My main work is in Urdu. I started writing again a month ago in English. Currently, I have 25 or more English poems written in my diary.
Published 2/14/26