I'M His Poem
Red of cherry that I wear on my lips-
how on his chest, they sketch similes
I read them, find metaphors hidden and realize it’s a poem..
a heart grows inside me then- I myself turn into yet another poem.
last night, he wrote poem on me- all over me
and I attempted to do the same
I doubt if I failed? Since, I had him as my guru…
Wet souls were searching their thirst-
faint light of moon, I saw it glow right next to my pillow
It was raining outside, meanwhile I was raining too..
raining for I’d never rained before-
clouds did form sometimes, but I tell you, I’d never rained before,
raining- is not easy, you need a whole water cycle to complete
no cycle would get complete just like that
you would need both the pushing and pulling factors-the duality I mean, as defined by every philosophy
a coin needs to have two sides
my side had never found the other half of walnut,
with him, it was more than just a walnut, it was almond nut, it was nuts and nuts and nuts, nudes!!…oops…i mean all kinds of nuts
I just don’t know how and why I rained?
may be he was just too warm, unlike those who were very cold,
may be I gained the perfect temperature, created some thunder and made storm running in my nerves
and energy that those lightning created, or energy that created lighting? was powerful
- this power corrupted me
- I was so corrupted that I stole half of him- but, that was a genuine barter though, I gave him half of mine too,
cause,
Gandalf he was, magical
- he waited no call…
inside my little home, he maintained courtesy
reaching my hall and corridors, he knew exactly where to take-off the shoes
my chura-pauju orchestrated perfectly- when he inhaled me and again filled me with aroma he exhaled
I’m his poem now, he holds patent and copy-right on me-
he’s earned me.
these legal terms, are too materialistic I know, So I don’t care about them much
and I don’t have to I know
I actually am a secret project of him, nobody see me hanging on lead of his pencil and lines of his notebook
I am his poem..
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