I Love you
and it is tragic
as it is not within
my understanding
of the quality of my solace
when I think of your face
I love you
and I cannot define it
and neither I have the capacity
to do so
perhaps I just admire you
or its just plain lust
can I look at this state of mind as a trance?
it makes me whirl myself in a "sufi" dance
I haven’t lost my sobriety
when I say that I love you
I will not follow you where you go
nor would I wait long hours
in the dust of the by-lanes of your house
perhaps I would never even show
that what I feel is what I don’t know
I love you
and yet it’s not just about love
nor it’s about what I feel or what I miss
I can blame it on infectious togetherness
the word “love” is theatrical
but I don’t know of any other term to use
and of course, thinking of you
doesn’t give any clues
This post first appeared on Listless Dawn - Poetry By Sandeep Kulshrestha, please read the originial post: here
