what you give to others,
first should be received by the self.
love, care, respect.
others take advantage of those
who devoid themselves
from the basics.
once you start respecting yourself,
others lose their power to disrespect.
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when you are head over heels in love,
you say, ๐ฉ๐ฆ'๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ
as if he's made of stardust
and smells like earthy scent,
as if he's warm like a mother's hug
and secure like a father's touch
as if he's the reality of your dreams
and the pride you feel
as if he's the feel of home
and the air you breathe
you say, ๐ฉ๐ฆ'๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ
as if he's the answer to all your prayers
and the end of your never-ending wait
as if he's the smile on your lips
and the peace you were searching for
as if he's the love line on your palm
and the vermilion you wear
as if he's the healer of your breakings
and the reason of your existence
you say, ๐ฉ๐ฆ'๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ
in the most selfless way
maybe,
you've learnt it this way from Radha;
the expression of your feelings
could be as loud as
Meera's devotional songs and hymns
or as bold as
Rukmini's marriage of elopement
but surrending to your lover
is the highest form of devotion
and so, without humming words
or the witnessing fire,
you merge with your Krishna,
uniting silently and inseparably
you say
and when you say,
you just don't stop
as if he's the topic
and you are an essay
you say, ๐ฉ๐ฆ'๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ
as if everything you'd ever need
would ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ญ๐บ be him
I broke the flower vase onto the floor,
and collected all the sharp broken pieces
with bare hands.
I dipped it in thick yellow
and painted the inner brown.
the colours merged gracefully,
matching the vibrancy of a sunflower.
aligning it then, side by side
against a black canvas,
I see in front of me,
a beautiful wall decor ready.
telling you, for you must know,
I break things when people break me.
I beautify and adorn it after breaking.
I do this, for I must know,
broken can be beautiful too.
I bumped into your shadow
while I was completely lost,
wandering barefeet from pillar to post,
on the stony road of self-worth
to a destination, unknown.
I loitered on the streets
circling my eyeballs in a 360 degree orbit,
looking out for a rental roof.
You crossed my path and stood in front.
Your body was a used journal.
The forehead was captioned in bold italics,
"๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐".
The arms and legs scribbled all over
with synonyms of "๐๐๐๐" and "๐๐๐๐",
not an inch of your skin was to be left unread.
You hold my wrist and rest my palm
onto your chest.
I feel the heartbeat dancing in irregular waves,
designing the word, "๐๐๐๐".
"๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐."
-๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐๐
