It's funny
How things zoom in
When viewed with fondness -
Little details come to fore
Details that were there always!
But blurred in this masquerade
Where 'I' remain the axis.
What if the spotlight is set on 'U' instead?
Is there a name for this shift?
Poets and story tellers,
Painters and sculptors
All seem to harp about this shift
In their own tongue!
Dodging words and donning symbols.
But the little fleck that I am,
I muse on the kernels
That crush under your molars
And stain your lips a blood red!
Akin to the stains of this shift
That linger in my world, my word and view
Bleeding into the mundane
And making it rich with the hue of hope
Of catching a glimpse
Perhaps of the love that you so deftly hide
Under the nonchalance.
Or Perhaps of you - in the carefully arranged array
Of countless seeds
Crushing under my molars
Flooding me with this venom like elixir.
Alas, The way I seem to make the biggest fetish
Out of pain.
Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV: https://www.pexels.com
