Lettering the Love

The last letter you sent me
Spread the aroma of sandal, fresh.
But the words were cluttered,
Illegible-
And I sat, taking in the essence
Of you, all over again.

My eyes sifted
Through the incoherent lettering
Pausing at every note,
Smiling after every alphabet, I grasped.
And swearing at the many
That appeared to me as unknown,
Undiscovered, yet.

Obsessed with your ink,
I drank in the unread,
And maybe, even the unsaid.


I found the many uncrossed T's
So typically yours,
And the tiny hearts that you doodle,
All over your I's.
And I remembered the way you curve your Q's
Saying it resembles my lips
When I pout.

Sigh! Who'd have ever known
One day as such, would come calling
When I'd spent hours
Tracing and retracing your words, your feel-
Discovering the mundane nuances
Of yours-
To find myself
Fall in love, with you
All over again.

Obsessed, maybe even a bit nutty.
Yet, the feel of loving even your T's and I's
Makes me realize-
There's no inch of you and yours
That hasn't left a mark on me.
Marked for life, I am
In your love.

Ah! Doodled a heart on the I, I did-
And it feels just so right!

Bridge across verses

The quill touched the parchment
With a thirst un-quenched
Scribbling words incoherent,
To form a beaded string
Of life's worth, of -
Words.

An occasional dip into the deepest of inks
And a quick jiggle that forced away
Blotches of that excess ink,
The one drop-
Which could have made a difference.

Curt tracings of the ink,
Racing along, faster than the thoughts
That bloom, and wilt.
The parchment damp, weighed down,
It lay heavy-
With not a dollop of a word more.

The veinlets once deepened,
In the brightest of hues
It receded into the depth,
Once again.
And as the parchment seemed all done
I found the split verses,
With no deft nexus-
Puissant .

And, I rummaged through my duffel bag
Of loquacious thoughts,
For that link-
The bridge across verses.

I never found it, though.
And so, I still do write-
Maybe someday,
I'd bridge my verses together.

Maybe, someday...

Insanity

When the lilies would bloom, once again
And the breeze would carry a whiff
Of her sweetness unto me,
I'd feel whole again,
Or so, I dearly hope.
But the lilies you tossed at me
They stink,
Or is it just me?

As the faint taste of the petals soft
Would touch my lips,
I'd savour the longing
For your kiss, once again,
I trust.
But I wonder, would you?
Foul breath,
I wouldn't have, nay?
Or, have I, always?

The silken bonds have unfastened itself,
And there hangs the orb
Of uncertainty, don't you see?
And I gather up the aged silk warp,
Holding it close to my bosom.
The moth balls pungent has left its trace,
And it leads the way up,
Into the cluttered mind.
Repellent, it ain't, nay?

The iron chains do hurt me at times.
Ask them to loosen my knots, could you?
Or would you rather let it be?
At times my legs bleed, the metal cutting in
And sometimes the flies smother all over,
And I watch them at work-
My hands can never reach them,
Handcuffed, you remember, nay?

The next time, get me daffodils plain
Bright yellow ones.
And bother to hand it over to me,
And don't toss it from across the bars,
Would you?
You would, nay?
Or wouldn't you?
You would, nay?