The heavy, rusted padlock,
Its key missing,
Hanging on an old massive door
of a dark chamber,
Hiding an ever-shut, secretive vault,
Spooky.
Once it was a golden kiss-lock,
Would snap open with spring,
Would snap down
and close upon the previous season.
And before that
it was all open,
No lock,
Just an open secret of love.
Love holds you in grasp;
in tight fist,
Entwining your destinies
for a paired chemistry,
That intimacy, familiarity, closeness,
The shared identity;
the overlapping zone,
Two molten selves
lovingly creeping into each other,
Sweet superimposition,
Tingling eclipsing of one by the other,--
alternating eclipses,
Her covering her
and she him.
But very rarely we are
two bodies moving in the same direction,
Like celestial bodies,
we cross paths from different directions,
Eclipse and pass across each other,
Then we drift away,
The shared zone keeps decreasing,
Moving away like strangers,
As if there was no acquaintance,--
a build-up of eternal estrangement.
The sweeping love-spools,
almost to the extent of being crazy,
A rush of positive chemicals they say,
But what a powerful natural intoxication!
The days get colored in new light,
You feel more alive than you remember,
A convalescence from past pains,
A reimbursement for the losses,
An empowerment against all maladies,
You feel lucky
to sleep-walk in the love-lane,
It helps you dreamily float
above and beyond
the concrete puzzles of life.
Why couldn’t I love you enough
to keep the joy that you once felt
on my touch?
Why couldn’t I keep
that shine in your eyes,
which sparkled at my sight?
Why couldn’t I keep
your dream in being love going
as you walked, talked in daylight?
Why couldn’t I keep nourishing
that smile on your lips in my company?
The failure to do so
is maybe a betrayal,
It’s better to accept one’s failure,
It clears at least one dark spot
from your conscience,
And in doing so,
you let her go
with her reputation intact,
In any case, you are sad,
Adding culpability to it
would lessen bitterness, I think.
It’s a sea of all-consuming indulgence,
A vast, pleasure pool,
And like a little cork piece
you bob on its turbulent waves,
You get heaved, bashed, thrown in air,
You gasp for breath with excitement,
But storms can’t last forever,
They have to stop and die,
Then you float lifelessly,
You pine for that high, that kick,
You feel life has drained out,
To be kicked by the storms of love
is what you view as being alive.
Love crushes you,
Consumes you,
It feasts upon you,
Dances on your head in wild revelry,
You become a stage
for its foot-tapping partying,
Its heels stomp on your chest,
Thump, Thump, Thump,
Your heart beats to its tunes,
Your soul sings to its composition,
Your eyes see its colors,
Your nose smells its fragrance,
Your fingers touch its curves,
Your tongue tastes its nectar.
It’s almost like a possessing entity,
Something that descends upon you,
Shaping you at its whims and fancies,
It’s not you,
It’s above and beyond you,
You realize it when it drops its spell,
leaving you like a garden
lynched on a storm’s path.
It’s a tasty addiction,
You are deshaped and deflated
once it abandons you,
You then hanker after the same shape,
You become a storm-chaser,
You run after another storm
to be jostled, pushed, pulled, ruffled,
Hoping you will get a fresh shape,
you allow yourself
to be hammered on the anvil.
The arrow of nostalgia
piercing through lost years,
Moving swiftly through cloudy past,
To hit home with precision,
To land at a moment,
A little dot in space-time fabric
containing a tiny slice of life
when we talked, held hands,
When just being together
was to feel full, rested, contended.
