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Tuesday, 22 May 2012


"Is this the way you love?" She asked me.
"What is love? What is my love?"
I asked me more questions.
I loved asking them.
Are they my real lovers?
Did those questions ever love their answers?
Then how they be my love?

"Love is the answer".
Crawling over me she told
Thus gone my questions!
But where did they go?
Is love a question killer?
I still have that one question
"What is my love?"

"You love your mobile only?"
She complained to me once.
Does my love reside in that small screen?
Am I romancing with mobile browser?
Is my relationship status 'online'?
But they can’t tell my emotions.
Then how they be my love?

Black pranks of ink on paper.
She called it printed books,
More than them she wanted my eyes.
Her jealousy labeled me a 'book worm'
Is reading and knowing my love?
But beyond that black and white am I nothing?
Then how they be my love?

My vision was lost in those blue hills then
While placing her head over my shoulders
"Why you always love to be alone?" she asked
It’s fun to be lost in nature,
Wasting nouns and adjectives for its description
But what is humane in that love of solitude?
Then how this be my love?

"Are you sure that you love me?"
"Of course I do". I replied her
But who is she?
How is she my love?
Never knew her, never met her.
The mirage woven into my reality
Loving the unreal her is the love I love
I won’t argue further about this love

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