The love of my world says I am indifferent to him. You are hot and warm too, he says. I chuckle but he has gotten me into a pit. Though I have seen a many lives within me, but whenever he puts his hand mildly on me, I feel like a baby, just delivered.
Its been days since we had a silence together. The silent music and the faint breaths, it brings a sense of resonance in our hearts. As he fluctuates, I reach to him and place my cheek against his. The unrest rises and soon it falls. He falls with glee.
I read poetry to him. It’s cheaper than actually going to places but equal pleasure. He gets bored. I am waving to the deep blue sky at dawn and he pulls me away to play with my loose hair. Poets are difficult, weird creatures. I raise a brow and turn. My benign smile acts as a toxic. He likes poetry now.
On the rooftop. I admire the mysteries and he whispers something in dark. There comes a colorful, a dreamful night. We play along running, hiding towards and away from each other.
Near the dusk, I sit in his shed. He enfolds me in his thoughts and I feel absolved.
There is a brisk shine in his eyes. Looking at me like a firm and devoted sage, he asks for a poem.
My tender smile looks indefinite.
Wholeness it is.