Rooms

Someone once told me
He had rooms in his mind –
A love in each room.

Thinking of love
Confined
In a room with windows
And no doors –
Everything in it’s sight
But nowhere to flow –
Makes breath stop in my throat.

What is love,
If not a geyser that explodes on your skin,
Leaving it burned and crinkled,
Melted to mush?

What is love,
If not the hot May breeze in Delhi,
That blows through your whole mind
Breaking down sanity?

What is love,
That can live in a room,
Unable to escape it’s imagined prison
And not scream the walls down?

About Aditi

My thoughts are who I am and I am what my thoughts make me.
This entry was posted in Emotions, Flow, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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