Thursday, February 3, 2011

She never speaks of her Love.

She hides behind those masked emotions with
tiny little butterflies that flutter their golden wings
inside her stomach,
her thoughts have again drifted- opening
the Pandora's box that cocoon her emotions.
The silvery white liner on her lids
glint pretty as she bats them again, her
thoughts on a rampage in the streets of her mind.
Her mind wanders away miles from
where I sit .

I talk to her, but she looks so dazed, so lost,
what is she thinking? I wonder,
and I tell myself- maybe it's my eyes playing tricks
but why would her face lie?
So I question, and I question- the mad rebel that I am,
I wonder and I wonder- the mad thinker I am
Maybe it's my eyes playing tricks, but why
would her face lie?

The beautiful Oriental slant of her gaze, so careful
not to undermine that silky skin that glints in the daylight,
oh so, breathtaking, but who rests in her mind?
I question and I question, I wonder and I wonder.
She smiles in a silent thought, shakes her head
in an absent memory that replays in the theaters
of her heart,
her eyes still impervious to mine,
alas, I continue to wonder what does she think of
that makes her so impenetrable?

Atlast, our conversation subsides, I being
the one-side gentleman, take her hand and kiss her bye,
she greets me with a questionable delight
so I venture, and with a brave heart I do,
to ask her what it is that made her numb throughout?
Her porcelain skin now witnesses traces of red and a hint
of subtle shy smile while she shakes away
my last words and turns back to the empty chair
that I had sat on a minute back,
her sight back at the lone rose I realize
what she will never tell me.
She thinks of only one-my camera's delight
She thinks of only one-my queen of hearts
she thinks of him.
but she never speaks of her love.


Vanita said...


Niharika said...

this is beautiful..

Anonymous said...

Very well written.