Skip to main content

Butterfly Heart

That slight tremor at a touch
And those glazed eyes measuring
How much you possibly mean to me
And how much of the surreal
Is real

Those subtle hints of ownership
Of someone you believe
Can't be owned.
That desperation for another hug
Before time intervenes
And rips us apart.

I now live a day at a time
And count my days
As one with those filled with you
The rest
My love
I do not remember
To have ever lived.

Comments

  1. I remember feeling like this when I found the love of my life... I could not remember a time without him... even now that we are not together, I have a hard time remembering a time without him... beautiful words Rajesh xox

    ReplyDelete
  2. I love the title ~ what a beautiful, heartfelt poem :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Loredana beat me to it! I love this title too. Great choice. This piece took me right back to the beginning of my relationship.

    frostonthevine.com

    ReplyDelete
  4. Dear H,
    Thank you for your visit and a beautiful comment. I was in your blog. The latest entry is quite touching. I tried to figure out how to leave behind a comment... Could not. Sorry about it.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Objects in the rear-view mirror are…

When it was time for her to go, it was also time for me to let go. Once an irritant is washed out, they say you can start seeing better immediately. All that stupid tears and all that rubbing of the soul, until your eyelids would cry out, no more, no more. 
And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.
As the train chugged out
The tracks cried out in senseless
creaks of half despair

Clarity

I have looked at myself
From the edges of reason
And discovered
That both my sanity and insanity
Springs forth like seasons
Out of my distances from you. Realizing thus
I have allowed the outer rims
Of my diffused sanity
To fritter away into crumbs
Of misplaced memories
From my time with you. I have often found myself being unreasonable
When I am away from you.
And generally insane
When otherwise.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda,
You would have smelt of summer roses
And Autumn pine.
There would have been sheer love
Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache
And loneliness bordering the divine.
You would have had so many secrets
Welling up as in a girly giggle
And so few friends who would hear them all.I am no Neruda
I can't paint you a Summer breeze
Amidst this long winter chill.