Wednesday, June 15, 2005

"humdrum"

don’t die
sweet naïve girl
don’t grieve
when my building burns

i am not a monster
but you, too, should start scheming
find her
she hides in everyone

maybe i’m a pretender
but i didn’t pretend with you
sometimes i may have hid behind my disgust
my apathy
sometimes i may have hid behind my love
my gratitude

you don’t know what you do to me
sweet naïve girl
you own me most of the time

your small choco-nut toes
your pepper fingers
your touch
they bring mountains to my skin

i too am scared sometimes

we’ll meet some other day dear
when we’re well
when we have nothing to lose
we’ll build our castle
with books and candle light dosa dinners
and i’ll lick the alm-cream off your skin
while you hum

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You don't know, what you do to me, you mountain-skinned non-mosnter. As i was readingthis, it gathered in my eyes, rolled down my cheeck, and wet my shirt...

It's not funny how your words do that to me... You may say it's because I know they are for me. Maybe... Maybe not. And when one day you're in some far-away land, I'll read a strange, touching poem, and wonder why is that my eyes feel weird.

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