Holes and Analogies

Would you like me as a sea?

Terrific on the outside
But deadly inside deep.
So when you come in, seeking treasures
Death would find you first.
Sweet poison, seeping out of me.

Or should I be like a tree instead?

Bearing lovely fruits of your desire.
So when you climb up ahead
Unburdening me of my juices
I would be the overdose, the high
The lucid whispers in your head.

Perhaps a film, of your taste.

Of sunken minds and heartbreaking lines.
Would your eyes be raised
to the screen of my skin then?
Carrying projections of your dreams
Disappearing words in sickening haste.

I need to tie my ends, flying loose.

Floating men with hearts hanging out.
Empty chests, lost lovers, placid hues.
Half eaten. Rotten. Of stories
Promises, lies and pending dues.

But you’re not the end of things.
And I am not a tree.
I’d drift off with my drooping limbs
As you pass out in your Bombay lanes
With younger women and heavier drinks.

So, I have read and written of you some
Of seas and films and empty drums.
Some nights were spared and left to bleed
Some stars too, and moons and few splendid suns.

For all the love and harm undone
I ask, to be my book, this once.
For you’re the book I’d like to read
In bed tonight,
And for the rest of my lonely nights to come.


Holes and Analogies

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