I may be called foolish
But all men and women in love
In its sultry sweet and henna-laced embrace
Are fools when inhaled
The dewy morning scent of it.
Of love.
No doubt my heart has been broken
Torn into pieces before the very shards
Are trampled by the great white Indian elephants
And the pieces are there for me to see
My fragmented self
To weep and cry at what I've become.
At what I've sacrificed for your
But I would not change it
Not turn the rusty hands of time
To beg and plead the divine stars of heaven
Up and above for a change
Of any kind.
I would never colour
Plaster over the feelings
That overwhelming sea of emotions
That I've had for you
That you've unearthed and unravelled
Like a tapestry of gold and violet.
I am yours.
With every breath that this vessel breathes
With every step that my pace matches yours
I am yours