Ten Shades of M

     I. White

Wilde said each man kills the things he love

With a bitter look or an endearing glance

With flattering words or words that cut like knife through flesh

Even said the coward does it with a kiss and the brave with a sword

It's an interesting metaphor because it's actually true to the core

    II. Sepia

Met my love when my eyes were young

It was not love at first sight

No. It was unfortunately not that melodramatic

He did not have me at hello nor sweep me off my feet instantaneously 

It was not sweet serendipity

Nothing at all like a good ole chick flick knavery

For we met ordinarily and started platonic as everything else should be

Blunt. Real. And Raw.

   III. Colloidal Brown

Years passed and the friendship was nurtured

But unwanted weeds had to be pulled out

 As I realized I had developed feelings

Tantamount to ruinous love trappings

   IV. Grey

Some kill their love in their youth and some when they're grey and old

And in my case, I tried to murder it a tender age

For it wasn't supposed to be there. It was an unwanted guest.

An embodiment of Gregor Samsa's Metamorphosis into a vermin

Yes. The feeling was a vermin. And so I had to stifle it.

Felt the stronger need to do so when he didn't seem to notice the rage within my being

And yet it was also a cyclone

That I wanted so much for him to calm..to quiet to a steadfast pace

But there was none

I felt crimson with hurt, pitch black with grief

As it was clothed with an unrequited cape

Of all forms of loving, the basest in its face

    V. Blood Red

I killed my love at 16 and killed it again at 23

I killed it with bitter looks. 

I killed it with words of flattery.

I killed it with the sharp knife of my tongue and I killed it with apathy.

And when these turned futile, I sought the help of conscious forgetting.

  VI. Flesh

But my heart was a feeble dullard

No amount of virtual, collateral and direct cardiac arrests 

Completely silenced him to a figurative grave

And later, he revealed the tell-tale reasons for his silence and disinterested semblance

  VII. Blue

He was insecure and weak

He was afraid

And with cowardice, he forged a friendly parade

He grew comfortable watching the waves while further deceiving himself

Of the idea that it was okay to admire its beauty from afar

The paddle and canoe remained untouched

Because to him, 

I was a hurricane.

  VIII. Yellow

And so finally, I understood

The cryptic nuances of our he-said-she-said affair

It was crazybeautiful. He was is crazybeautiful.

Every fiber of his being, a breathtaking reflection of the image of God
As the light of his love illuminates in me like a thousand splendid suns.

  IX. Aurora Borealis 

Yes! I still love him and I will continue to

Beyond words, distance, space and time

Beyond my earthly state

In a watery grave or a dust-laden space

I love him. I love him. I love him.
Always have and always will.

  X. Clarity

I killed my love at 16 and killed it again at 23...

Or so I thought..

-LMN-

(Aug  13, 2014)