An Appetite for Love (III)

Lately

I have developed

An Appetite for Love.

In Love

I want to request all the migratory birds

To deliver your messages unhurriedly.

In Love

I want to weep alone like a child

And name it your unique brand of Love.

In Love

I want to write passionate love letters

But never deliver them to you ever.

In Love

I want to meet you after decades of tiff

And confess my countless deaths.

In Love

I want to eradicate all the miseries from the world

But die of one myself.

In Love

I want to burn all the newspapers of the world

And feed the heap to dictators.

In Love

I want to name all the jilted lovers

Martyrs of an unknown realm.

In Love

I want to pronounce Separation

As a Game of Desires.

In Love

I want to look deep into your eyes

But willingly fail to locate the epicenter of my sickness.

In Love

I want this poor poem to end

At the huge door of your elite house.

Invitation

You, as genuine members

Of Love club, all are

Cordially invited

To the marriage ceremony

Of Mr Broken Heart with Ms Suicide

On whichever day you

Would feel most depressed.

P.S. Lunch will be served to jilted lovers first. 

Burial

After burying her

Surreptitiously in my damp face

I am no longer missed

in the plots of Love.

A Very Short Introduction to Love

It

Persists...

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The day we will meet 

After centuries of hunger

We will drink a glass full of our eyes

With crispy over-baked bodies.

Ever After

Had love shaped our stories

I assume

It would’ve ended by now.

A tinge of bitterness 

It seems 

                   is necessary                   

To prolong the ordeal

And breathe the narration in.

Midnight Raid

That night

They shared the Moon among themselves

And with it

Rubbed their bleeding bodies white.

The night they were raped

Even God fell sick and died.