Pic credits: Google
In moments when the haunting murmurs in you heart spurn…
Tunnel through the dark passages..
Blood runs cold.. And the heat swirls in your head..
In moments when love feels like pain..
And pain like love..
Who has your breath in a hitch..
Who is thy master? Thy self? Thy trampled heart, trembling nerves…
Which side of the sun are you on?
The cold night or the scorching blow of highland heat waves?
Where do you look to? In whose words do you find solace..
Which side of that man must you dwell with?
Which face of the man must you love.. And must you decipher.. Must you lie to yourself of?
There is the growling animal and there is the swooning dove.. Both within one..
Both tied into one… Which do you see? Which do you love?
The questions, the whys and the why nots..
Should be.. Could be.. Wouldn’t be…
The becoming we are all taught..
The love we are taught to see..
Aren’t we tangled and knotted in love with idea of it..
I detest love.. As much as I crave it..
I disbelieve thee.. As much as I see it..
And yet the nuisance of pain.. It speaks only of love..
As though it croons for thirst.. The elusive love..
It’s pain in love.. And it’s pain “in love”