To Love Is To Be.... Poem by Ananya Singh

We're all about these small epiphanies that keeps us sane.
That long breaths you take before saying I love you,
As if you're going to wage a war that you know will destroy you in the end but however you want to celebrate it.
The reluctance of holding hands as you don't want to get burn.
The vulnerability of uncertainities before meeting someone and letting them go.
The consolation circle of kissing, stopping, smiling, seeing and kissing them again even more harder,
Like they want to transport you into their soul.
Unaware of the catastrophes you've unleashed while discovering your own galaxy into them.
You listen to some songs and it reminds you of them rubbing gently through your hair.
The sigh of relief you get after that sudden collision of eyes through the crowd,
Knowing you're doomed to the edge of melancholy but you feel powerful enough to punch it in the face.
When you love someone you just don't love them,
You sleep, speak, breathe and feel in their own language and dance to their rhythm.
It seems peculiar but you're who you love,
They bite their tongue and you bleed.
They rub a cotton ball dipped in alcohol on their wounds,
But you scream in that pain and cry your heart out.
Sadness puts them on the gunpoint, they pull the trigger but you get shot,
And eventually when they leave you,
You are buried alive in that box of void too.
They're on fire and you feel that heat burning your skin.
And now only the remnants are left behind to weep.
You leave flowers on their grave and keep some of them in your diary,
Hoping you'd make them immortal through your poetry.
Because love is nothing but the cracks you get after an earthquake,
Leaving a pathway for the monsters and grief to crawl back in.
To love at all is to be vulnerable.
Living with all those agonies and ghosts and still not let them consume you.