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Of numerous loves…

September 18, 2006

I lie awake sometimes, wondering
if numerous loves are possible…
Is one who loves deep and long
a single other soul,
revealing secrets of the heart as yet untold,
holding, questioning, comforting,
forever entwined,
with eyes for none other—
is that love greater than one meted out
to all who come by, and seek comfort;
a kind word to one, a gentle touch elsewhere
while all your secrets lie rusting,
with no one to share
the pain that’s your destiny,
wrapped up
in impermeable layers of giving,
so tightly bundled
that though with each giving
you add a layer more,
none can give
that which penetrates to your core…
The love that demands
an equal affection—is it selfish?
Or is the love that refuses
to let anyone close,
see the anguish and the tears,
know the murky depths—is that love selfish?

The tears ran silently down my cheeks as I lay on his shoulder, every stroke of his hand piercing me like a thousand tiny shards of glass. There was pleasure in this pain, a bittersweet vengeance of sorts. Unconditional love—and impersonal. Never asking for forever, never asking for anything but the moment… to be held and comforted, to be worshipped, but just for this moment.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, planting a kiss on my forehead. A mute scream rent my conscious, a voiceless cry from the very depths of my soul… I was curling up and dying inside.

(25th Aug 2005)

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One comment

  1. […] asked myself a long time ago, in a verse entitled ‘Of numerous loves’, which kind of love was greater… and I have yet to find an answer. The older I get, though, […]



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