Poetry for Thought

Trying to put together a thought process, TRYING. might have failed, you are welcome to help me articulate :)

Title: Friendly

I don’t want to fall head first in love,

Why can’t we start with being friends?

Did you love your friend the day you met them?

That intense deep love.

No; it took you years to say I love you.

So, I want to be friends,

Maybe we can kiss,

Maybe we can get naked,

But I don’t want to love you.

Not instantly,

Not head over heels,

Losing myself suddenly.

Years would pass,

And then we’d be friends,

And then you’d meet the real me,

And fall in love again.

Why won’t you meet me now?

And let me meet you?

Why jump, when we can walk a bit longer.

Let’s get to know each other,

And then love will come easily.

Leave that “in love” at the door,

And let’s be friends.

Do you want to get flirty and friendly with me?

Disconnect

I kept looking at that picture,

Might have looked at it too many times.

I have stopped now,

But it comes raging back.

As memories sometimes,

And other times as a hope for the future.

Maybe we will have more pictures,

Maybe we won’t take pictures at all.

Was it a declaration of love

Or a social obligation?

How does one disconnect in this connected world?

Curl

Fingers have to curl the right way

To spread the khol in my eyes.

Which part has to curl the right way

To spread the joy in my eyes?

questions

Are you a miss
or amiss?

Songs

I remember the day I was in the bus; coming to get you from the airport. It had been a good couple of days and I missed you like crazy. And I played this song over and over again because I wanted to sing it to you. I wanted it to be perfect. I was so happy, so nervous to see you after so long and the song just made the ride easier.

And now YouTube plays it as a suggested song and I wonder if I would feel that way again.

And now you have some else singing you songs that I only listened to on my way to the airport.

And now I have someone else singing me songs that you...well, you didn't sing that much...

Poem

days like these when the body doesn't fit the mind,
and the mind doesn't fit the soul,
and the soul doesn't fit me,

days like these are meant to be spent in bed,
with fingers in my hair and stories in my ear.

Where are you?

Only the wind sweeps across cold floors
and lonely strands.