Untitled Poem by Sneha Murali

Subtlety, incoherent presence of your beating heart,
with blood, with me, pumping through your veins to meet you halfway!
Wondrous is drug we call love!
wondrous is the aftermath we call 'falling'

What is love, but a prickly bush of roses
with a tricky sense of bringing tranquility from pain
that reaches the olfactory nerves
smelling of flowers and blood pricked by thorns

Mix in the feeling of euphoria with the rush
and gush of an exploding chest
and you've got the recipe for 'love'
unexplainable, tumultuous happiness.

You can say its a happy-pain,
a conjunction of black and white
oxymoronic at best, need I say the rest
You know how time tests the beating chest

I feel you loosening the tight constraint
around your heart, I do the same
you don't need me explaining the game
For as soon as the curtain falls, my heart is claimed

Pure, Pristine, Crystal clear eyes tear up
and blood stained tears spilled
a happiness that'll never exist
I'll live with the pain, percentage of happiness resisted


Copyright © 2011 by Sneha Murali