Tuesday, August 11, 2015



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)











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