On Polyamory

There are insurmountable secrets
In her doe eyes
Who do they see?
You or me?
Those nights
When she lies next to me
And thinks of you
Whom does she dream?
You or me?
When she mistakenly
Utters my name
During a conversation
about you
Who does she mean?
You or me?
Who is it that walks with her
And who is it
That holds her hand?
Who is it
That kisses her
And who
Looks into her eyes?
You
Or me?
Or both?

Maybe her free will
Runs its fingers
Over us both (and others)
And churns out a melody
that we call ‘our song’.

For it takes-
Two to tango;
but many many notes
to make a tune…

Ankush, 29/6/14

Should there be love,
in times like these?
Should the flummoxed, waspish tongue
extricate itself
from asperity
and sing the vertiginous notes
of love-lorn duets?

Should there be sleep?
Should the abashed eyes blink
without searing;
amidst whimpers and trepidations
and let the ominous world
Fade to black?
(hear the screams).

Should there be dreams
of innocuous (?) glee,
amidst the millions
still not free
-To dream?
Should the pellucid world
engage the soul
in a blithely peregrination?
And resist all temptations,
-of living.

Should there be life
amidst malevolent incursions?
Where truths are
just versions;
Should there be truth, then…
Should there be breath,
where death
is a kindness?
(or so it is said
as all who disagree
are already dead)
Where every rope,
is a noose
tightening around the necks
of incredulous beings.

Should there be hope?

midnight, 5-6/6/2014