Would you come to hear me sing?
Would you listen or ignore?
What should you do when it's too late?
Should you hold on until love breaks?
So far that you can never mend?
What should you say when love leaves home?
Should you wave and say "so long"?
That has been sinking in a drowning cove?
What should we write at the end of our book?
Can we see past all the faults?
Or, should we quit, would that be better?
to bring the balance I need.
the flickering light in your candle.
spoke the mother of four.
The languid Hyderabadi summers would beckon us outdoors.
And epic tales of the better days.
I'd be sitting across the table from you.
We would have a bottle of white wine, or two.
You'd tell me the story behind your wrist tattoo.
You'd smile because we have kindred world views.
Two wild flowers grown between cement bricks.
Sick of the quick, the flick, the smudged lipstick.
You'd blame your meek honesty on the kick.
We'd both hope there's no short end to this stick.
The clock would strike midnight theatrically.
We'd feel caught off guard by reality.
You'd smirk at my coy whimsicality.
Yet all yields to ephemerality.
We'd be on my couch flipping through vinyl.
Controverting over the noble and the trifle.
A shot at a poem without a title.
Merely a poem, more of an idyll.
From the other side, like the way I do.
And this is my catastrophe above all.
But I am the unknown, and I befriended fear!
I see you in everything, "love" can't you see?
I told you, I have no name.
and sought shelter in its purple haze?
and wrap around to become a rainbow.
and mar its silent harmony.
if you put a reckless foot on it.
You open your wings and whirl languidly.
and the shadow becomes your soul.
around lumps of lusting flesh.
to the accompaniment of a starry ensemble.
there is no wall, no words, no monsoon myths.
the meaning of being a shadow lover.