Love is a strange paradise,
it is not made of chandeliers,
glasswares, glittering walls
and kaleidoscopic roofs
rather with cement bricks,
floors etched with sad shayaris,
rooms echo in reverse,
utensils cry in grief when
they fall, earthquakes and sea storms
are uninvited permanent guests.
Here, we repeat:
Love is blind, blinding – motionlessly
and fall for mere words, pretty smiles,
We hide our lovers name
in between braids and knuckles
and later wish to vanish sorrows
like the pigeon in magician’s hat,
wish to dissolve them in water
fuse them with breeze.
Sorrow in all worlds are same,
they change forms,
from sobs to mourns,
trail you like shadows.
We bathe in hot showers for hours
to get rid of touch, we write tragic letters
on failing, losing and bury in the backyard,
a place where we nourish weeds, pests
not butterflies and dandelions,
we paint portraits of strange objects
and light lamps with kerosene oil,
we make million attempts on forgetting
to only miserably lose.
The moon here is brighter than beliefs,
the stars sings melancholic lullaby,
comets come with antique violin
midnights stretch on my tongue
and we spend it wondering which
is more difficult,
letting go or saying goodbye,
asking 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘴.
#napowrimo – day 02