You come rather suddenly sometimes Wake me up from the white noise We set about yet again To dust the fairy cobwebs Of reminiscence Or to shake off the bit Of rust That gathers every time We don’t talk.

Sometimes it seems that the world We call our own, Is nothing but a parody Of a beauty salon.

I am the girl, complete in the garb, Of others’ vehemence, But mostly my own.

Your love is like a maze, Frayed, worn carpets everywhere, Libraries of dust gathering thoughts, Mulling like old, old wine.

Burrowed deep in the substrate. She taps my face with warm fingers And says- Look, let’s go pick blueberries And eat them raw...

Being in love should be like floating, There should be enough salt in the heart.

In every verse that inhabits your mouth, Like a stranger, asking for directions In the lanes of an intimate city Littered with cramped shops, Streetlights glimmering in latent desire In your weak, wary eyes.

Let your pen unravel what I write So carefully contrived, And all my words, You colour them grey.

I only want the green I feel. The green And your waifish frame. Stairs will never be the same again.

In this no man’s land I’ll build Myself a home. Isn’t that what we all look for?

Which border do I cross, I wonder? Where can I pack my home?