the strange things about love ...

Whatever it was it wasn't love!

It was about getting even.

I hurt you because you hurt me

I lied to you as you lied to me

I deceived for you cheated too;

and both wondered -

why couldnt you love as I do! ...

And this skin communicated thing,

whatever it was, it wasn't love.

and now after so many years ...
when I have held you in my poems

and your smiling face and twinkling eyes 

 come alive from the pages with words not spoken,

 I feel happy that you are here for me.

Now you are always there, waiting,

in the alleyways of my poetry,

a little silent perhaps

and may be a bit foggy

but letting me feel that

I am not alone,

not entirely, that is!