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

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.

The Color That Blinds

Every time I close my eyes
I see the green of Kerala countryside
The dark greens of lumbering rubber trees
The even tranquil green of silent paddy fields
The light lemon yellow green from tender clover leaves 

And then I remember your dupatta
Deep red or possibly maroon
Standing out among the Kerala countrysides.

Travelers All

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known.And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these.Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.