THOUGHTS WE FETTER IN

Love happens,
not once but more
Don’t be played
by its romantically crafted devotement—
Wrenching your mindless gullible heart,
for it to prance with frolic and merriment

Imbelice heart!
You efface the red flags—which signal you out of the blindfolded affair
You refuse;
to coil into this pleasure of knowing what it feels like to be needed
Supporting the blinds you suffer from;
a known, love at first sight malady
A garden of red roses to plant your deary dreams—
for every fantasy to stem and seed

Tender foolish heart!
You bundle into this fascination you pick out for yourself
Believing it to be the only arrangement
In your timid imagination,
is the favour you do yourself

Love,
Clamors over the peices that break your chest;
heavily seething of resentment
Swearing never to be mended

Love,
the perfect cure for this contusion
Hurrying to rebound with fondness,
you recuperate this torn wounded heart
Believing it to be, the only source of reparation

Love,
fills the gaps it leaves you with—
pouring affection from other crevices
What shatters your illusion
stitches your heart whole again;
Showing you mercy in pain
So, much so that,
You wait to fall in love
not once but again.
-Shweta Kher