Of late, more than god, of you, I think,
More than water, my own tears, I drink!
Will I get you, or will I miss?
Will you truly understand me, or take me amiss?
Will you take pride in being my better-half?
Or, at my unprecedented love for you, scoff?
My obliterated love, will you resuscitate?
Or, just consign it to fate?
The deep scars of my heart, will you erase?
Or, leave it alone, to develop into a maze?
Your love has come, as a glimmer of hope,
I wish, it doesn’t turn, into a rope!
Your love, my heart wants to embrace,
If it can’t, can there be a better disgrace?
© 2009. P. Mohan Chandran. All Rights Reserved.