We, those whom the world accuses of feeling the full brunt of emotions,
Sentimental fools, they mock and laugh.
We, who take the world to be our competition,
Fight. Gnarl. Fall. Break. Still stand and try to last, yet another day.
We, want to ace at what we do, nothing appeases us like work done well,
Take every rejection to heart, an extra hour’s effort for every stone hurled.
We, who as much fall, rise in love,
Our hearts are our impenetrable fortress, our bodies, we might give away easy.
We, don’t crave for easy, comfortable or simple,
To burn our fingers in the fire of passion, make you claim each part of our being.
We, stand by every word and every tear, no hurt, no smile goes unaccounted,
Once in love always in love, yet our faces mask what we feel.
We, hold not much for your riches, nor for the beauty of your skin,
Instead long for the sparks of brilliance in your eyes, words you speak, your thoughts.
We, for whom no wait is too long, no desire, too strong,
But sometimes we need just another wild one, to run with the wolves.
And then there are days that feel like an incomplete puzzle,
The nagging feeling of missing a piece.
So I sat down to complete it on my own,
To make the piece that I was missing,
Instead of waiting for fate to present me with it.
After 2 hours and fingers scarred with black paint,
I found my missing piece, ‘the desire’.
My love for you falls short of words,
But you will never understand.
I set myself on fire so that you look beautiful,
I would gladly be the dark background so that you could shine.
Maybe we will never have a love story like the greats,
Maybe we are too different for others to accept us,
But have you ever seen a diya look her splendid self without a wick?
This picture has been taken on my Ma’s phone, the only editing feature used is the crop. I bent down too close and almost burnt my finger while taking this picture.
Ma always lights two diyas outside our home every evening, I managed to capture one of them. 🙂