The story starts all over again…
The beginning, where
I am loved more than I love;
And intimacy is given,
Before it’s desired,
When blushes accompany
Each caress; and promises
Have a fervent zeal,
Distances failed to matter
And the fear of losing me
Cast an unbearable doom,
When lips found each other
Without keeping tabs
And ardour wasn’t just a perfume.

The middle, where snores
Fall into my confused eyes,
As backs are turned to me
(In sleep, of course);
Scrolling Instagram
And binging serials
Become more important
Than a conversation.
Where distances grow in sleep
And hopeful hands
Are flung aside
(In sleep, of course);
And others begin to intrude
Into parched fantasies.

The end – oh, the end!
It happens, as I ask
For what used to be freely given;
Soon, I get accused
Of demanding more than I need,
Of tantrums and ego trips.
And insecurities lengthen
Into the chasm as wide as
The ones between the lips.
Eventually,
In neglectful silences,
Louder than words ever spoken,
Promises lie broken,
For the pursuit of a changed
Idea of happiness
That’s always deranged.