I Can'T Read Poem by Poornima Kanasen

Tip of my finger, caressing the skin of the book,
Fingers of mine, dancing in rhythm forming a wave on the hardcover,
A tap on it, the softest sound magnifies into a wake-up call to my soul,
The texture of embedded words penetrating my flesh with a touch,

The debility of pages you constructed, shelled with verisimilitude,
‘tween the pages and added life journalism, I sense faded quests of love;
Upon what you have delivered therein, past it is but exquisite pain,
I stand in such delicacy of mind discrimination, of which persists,
Despite the ups and downs; in total contemplation, it leaves me!

A blend of mortal lover with my immortal thoughts, circulating my innocence,
Alas, a reason for suppressing the wickedness in me, surpassing it evermore,
Like a witch without a broomstick, I wander now in dark, lurking, waiting,
Actuality versus the truth I witness? Is it a gift or a curse bestowed upon me?

The book of your life, intermingled with mine with blood ties,
You left in a rush, pardoning me to protect the book, the cipher,
With spells and rituals, impotency and mind games, secrets and darkness,
A swoosh of pleasure sipping through me, like a nectar the book would be,
Yet, I stand by my own rules, neither the life you had nor you, I seek to be,

I can't read! I wish not to read the secrets of becoming one with immortality,
For your desires were against the law of nature, you served the consequences,
I can't read! I can't read! I can't read because of you!
I have got to bury it deep, never to be searched for again, let the truth be overlapped! ! For, I can't read because of it, I have lost you....