I’m in love with what I cannot touch,
It’s at the back of my mind
Sometimes almost within my reach
I cannot make its outlines in the blurriness of my mind
Its touch is of snowflakes melting at the very touch of my hand
Like wilted petals it crumbles,
Like ashes it falters within my palms
Unable to stomach the injustices of life.
Its form is of foam
Vanishing in the very heat of reality
I’m in love with what I cannot touch
Its faint lips chime my ears with melodies of our inseparable love
Peace, trust and honesty are the maiden names of my bride
The utmost foundation of my pride
The purest seed ever known
But such a personality society would not condone
With her demise they chose a replacement,
“A sister of reality”, they say,
-“A fitting match of my deceased”, they utter
Yet in her way –
A contrast of all things that matter
Peace love and honesty she tears to bits,
Crashing every inch of my wits
In their place, she breeds pretense, deceit and lies beyond measure
What is life if man cannot wish?
What are wishes if they never hold any truth?
Cast me in sleep never to wake again.