Poetics of Love


Like a poet, transform letters into emotions, so you can feel what lies beneath your heart, the one you keep caged in a box of uncertainty and insecurity. So you can grasp and bring to the surface what lies beneath your grey shirt, the one you keep buttoned to your neck, and cover with a sweater even on a sunny day.

When you are in love, you get submerged in snow, and still feel the sting on your feet. And when you are frozen, your body begins to warm with the sound of her laughter, the one that cackles with every poetic description and imagery. When she disappears in thin air, you can still see her in the prose, she still smiles through the rhymes. The distance between you is shortened in a sonnet. You can still smell her hair from the dry ink of the pen.

When you are in love, you can catch pain with both our hands, and throw it out of the window. And sometimes, it refuses to let go and so like a loyal host, you hold it dear. You see her pass by your window holding hands that are not yours. You tell yourself “Maybe tomorrow it will get better,” but tomorrow kicks you so hard in the face.

And when you are lying face down on the floor and counting the passing feet, you teleport yourself backwards to a moment when everything was pure, when you hadn’t thrown the stones that wrecked the house, when you hadn’t let out the scream that shattered the glass.

You begin to climb the mountain afresh, and stop at a point where you can see the truth, where your faces merge on crystalline ice at the mountain cap, before you melt to nothingness. And you can’t collect the water, because you are standing on the edge of a steep side.

You watch as the water flows downwards to gather in a puddle before the sun sucks it all out. When you open your mouth to scream, the echoes of your whispers are consumed in the silence. Then you know you’ve lost. She’s gone…

You lick the flames of fire as fury emanates from your throat to fight the battles you lost. Sometimes, you lose all over again. Then you retrace your steps back so you can learn from the mistakes you ignored, so you can love the people you hurt along the way, and in a moment of weakness, cry like a baby.

It’s okay baby, you can always cover your face with your hands to hide from the shame. Yes, the world can still peer into your eyes through the spaces between your fingers but at least you tried.

Even if you choose your battles wisely, sometimes, you lose. But hey, don’t you ever feel sorry for yourself and brood between your sheets till the world forgets you. Get up from your pathetic slumber and draw back the curtains. You are a fighter. Splash water on your face and see your sore eyes glisten in the mirror. Throw away the tissues and sort out your issues with a defiant smile.

Make that journey to recovery and find conviction in your dreams, which is not to please everyone and sink into oblivion when you feel they hate you. Because hate disguises jealousy, which is actually what they feel when you rise. Yes, I believe in second chances and someone needs to remind you that your dreams are valid. You can have her if you put your mind to it.

So sit down in your serenity and paint the picture that will set you free. When the canvas begins to breathe with the creativity bottled up inside you, you begin to see the world through a kaleidoscope. Her face begins to form as you break free, and for a moment you cup it with your two hands and let the tips of your fingers trace the outline of her beauty. The brush paints the colour red on her lips and when she stares at you with a smile you can feel the softness of her skin, crawling on you. Now is the time to kiss her but patience will get you further than the first base.

Sometimes, you win because you are the guy who gets the girl who everyone thought was out of your reach. Because poetry makes you touch her without ever meeting her.

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About sensoria300

With your heart you can love... With depth, you can feel... With soul, you can survive... Harnessing the whispers of words. A dreamer. Movie junkie. Music aficionado.

Posted on October 30, 2014, in Poetic Justice and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. This is so amazing that I have to read it again and again. Geesh, what a mind you have Jennifer

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