Maybe to say out loud that
I am bothered by your thoughts
And tales, is an act
That needs sheer courage.
But then often I find
My self walking alone down
A snowy path on a winter eve.
And the trees which line up the way,
Bear your memories
In the form of leaves.
As my self walks,
Suddenly out of thin air,
A voice strange and weird.
It’s my brain.
Crying at the top of its lungs that-
“Romance is a two-way street!”
But even before a wink,
My heart shouts back casually
“But love isn’t! ”
And my self tries to pacify them.
Of course, it never realizes that
To serve both is a paradox.
And of course, it doesn’t succeed.
And so the confusion penetrates
Deep into the pockets of my self
As it walks down the snowy path;
Like a lean skeleton of existence
Those unforgettable leaves falling
Down the trees, slowly in the wind.