Guest Post number 1 :)

Thank you and a million hugs to Meher over at Translucid Graffiti for this amazing guest post of what I hope will be many more :)

Here goes.

Senile Questions

Lucid consoles,

Of never ending spaces.

No cluttered existences.

Just she

and her creation of love.

Carefully thriving on pleasure,

And the guileless passion,

She hath infused.

breathing, not in solitude,

but in perfect symphony,

as alike,

as a body in itself could be.

It was the same dream.

Every night. With every fucking gasp of air she took in.

With every ripple of existence living through every sensation of the longing that knew no bounds. It only grew. Nurtured on long hurtful glances that were to remain unrequited.

It was not meant to be, they said.

The amalgamation of the two worlds would not happen, they smirked.

But no one could frustrate her quite as good as he. And no one could make her love more. Shrouded with nothingness, led along with beguiling patience, having stayed inert for far too long does love no good.

No good at all, she’d croon.

Along with the numerous songs written and tucked under layers of furtive solitude.

And he hasn’t been demystified either. He, wasn’t blind to the rage of the overflowing emotions that her eyes had spoken.

He wasn’t oblivious to the passion springing in her steps.

But what was one to do about betraying emotions, sir? About the love not seeping in. About the pain not stirred. About the songs not sung.  Must the love wither and die an unanswered death? Nay, doesn’t seem fair.
Must the unloved quench their thirst and move on? What was one to do about the fragrances that reminded of love, gone unreciprocated? Pray, tell me, if you know.

The answer to the rage building over,

to the passion fragmenting,

and the grief tucked in.

It was and will remain as fucked up as it can be. Having been unanswered, it will go on to evoke strange memories of emotions gone awry. It’s true, there shall never be complacence and perhaps, she’s prefer it that way too. 

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Love,

Kanika