They took my poems
my cardboard box with envelopes
poems written all over them with vague lines differentiating
the junkyard guy took it
my people gave it away
they thought it may be college notes
nobody believes in them notes, what would he do with this crap
They felt
do you know how difficult it is to come up with something
a lot of my love was designed on those pages
I had ideas that need to be seen
dealt with
I needed to know how I will love her
when I shall meet her
it had details
the holding of the hand
the cusp of the chin, my finger playing with her hair
I would see the tufts of thin hair wafting in the wind, on her back
when she's out of the shower, and I shall watch it sway in the light
the twist of her lips and when I shall kiss the upper lip
and when I shall touch the lower ones her smell in company
the breathing heavily drawn
you gave it all away to the junkyard guy
he is going to burn it all and then them embers shall fly
I shall not even breathe it
some passerby's shall take it in and their lungs would curdle up a few visions
and she may say how come I am thinking such,
till yester, I was breathing fine, now I feel a tug in my heart
I am not choking but a tug
How shall I find out how I loved her then
on that day on that hour
now it is different day and hour
everyday I shall love different but you need the past to build the present
please do not take my poems
she and these are all that I have.....
I keep sane among'st you 'coz of her and my love for her and my words...
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