• २०८० मंसिर १८ सोमबार

The Last Gift

Sushant Kumar B.K.

Sushant Kumar B.K.

On Valentine’s Day
with drenched eyes
she rashly hugs me
she intensively kisses me
like a last kiss by Juliet
myself tries to kiss her back
myself tries to merge within
with my shock, her eyes defy

then, for a few minutes
words pass, not between us
the moment, holds not the life
somewhere deep down, I could sense
tragedy of love, just in threshold

inside and out, nothing moves
seems everything, devoid
a coolness around us, grows
meanwhile ,she asks:
“what is our relationship?”
herself, answers:
” unnamed”
“our fate?”
” uninked”
“who are you to me?”
“only a physical partner”
“not a life partner, huh?”
“I know that you are deeply influenced
by the Western thought about love ”

her allegations!
her conclusions!
her reflections!

my answers:
i am not myself out of nothing
i am inside of you and
you are inside of me
and there exists love
the Western and the Eastern
no definition, no direction, i prefer
love is just love

her trembling hands
gives me a card;
her wedding card,
falls down, from my hands

before she disappears back to home
“I love you dear”
she quietly whispers in my ears

then i suddenly realize
she has no idea
she’s barefoot and
wearing unflattering clothes
I seldom met her
that way ever before.

Sushant Kumar B.K.