There is a little bit of softness leftover
In the darkest corner, in the deepest crevice
A little dance still to be danced
Held by the waist, pulled a little closer
There is a little love poem petulantly unwavering
Yet to be written, slowly forming
To be held firmly, with care
To be kissed absolutely, without restrain
To part with the knowledge that we will meet again
Not per chance but on dinner that day
To be loved overwhelmingly without spilling
Sloshing like wine, kissing the brim
There still lies a happiness uncorrupted
Someday days I wake up with its tatse on my lips
Like the sugary aftertaste of vanilla ice cream
Or particularly smooth puff of iced cigarettes
Like an extra warm cup of mocha on a rainy day
Your love tastes a little bit of the same
So what if things don’t always add up
They never did in Calculus anyway
And what if we don’t reach the answers in one go
Love, my love, can too iterate
If you looked into my eyes, your doubts will disappear
I know it as surely as I know my name
And when our gazes lock, ask me where I have been
And I’ll ask if those eyes are really hazel or not
I apologize for the condition you find this heart in
It wasn’t always treated in the kindest way
It is a little rough around the edges
Might give a paper cut here or there
There is still a bit of fight left in it though
It remembers warmth, as it does decay
Love is both vulnerability and security at once
This is the paradoxical nature at play
And each part, let us perfect
Little theater of softness and macabre interplayed
A DESI MUFFIN 