Jumble, jumble, my heart is tumbling
over the slants of your
shoulder. Your nape is fragrant.
Let me kiss you, rose bud.
I am no one without you.
Without a metaphor,
a greedy monster. Will you reconcile
with me, won’t you? Soft petal?
Even it’s a time to be separate,
a clarion call has come
to be evenly strong,
without me, an individual. I am a reactionary,
not wish to be. Without you- an aloof, bitter,
violent. My remedy. My life’s cliche.
I abhor you, darling, I love you so much.
Then another separation: Death.
The primal departure of you
from myself and I
from you. A vacancy remains not for there will
be new loves. Will they remember us?
Or, say, it will not matter, who loves whom, and how
the heart is broken in a fickle way.
Forgetting is an almirah of loss and regret.