There is a love

There is a love

That will not die:

Inconceivable:

Kind of like

The truth no

One knows-

Which either

Eats you or

Flows through

Your blood

Like Mary Jane

And her passing

You scented

Flowers.

Love:

No one tells you

Your rights and

Freedoms

And you are

Left to make

Sense of why you

Even look for answers

In people

And of the odor

Of Nicotianas,

After dusk.

Love:

When words made

You comfortable

To open someone and

Look through their skin

And your showering

Of animosity

Towards them

Was really that

You couldn’t handle

Your colder parts-

Your perennial

Nature.

There is a love

That will not die:

When you’re not sure

Whether to

Serve your memories

Or make new ones.

Next Wednesday, the

Fragrance will blend

In my surroundings;

Almost like a part

Of it, my heart,

My Gardenias and

I am going to be

A lustful scent.

Love:

No, love is not my enemy:

It is my wound:

So don’t tell me how to love

And how I should pick myself up-

You only see

What you see in yourself.

~Maryum Khalid~