At every opportunity to not know, I shamelessly choose to know.
The patient sheet of paper - never asking me to shut up.
If only she could love me and not the image of me I wanted her to once love.
On the pavement, my body feels and holds the rush of every vehicle and in that incessant throb, a deep calm and quietening...
Such a pitiful heart which mistakes attention for love
How different is day from night!? My life is not of my plot; my dreams are not of my design.
"If only she could love me and not the image of me I wanted her to once love." - don't you think at each point its a different image- the "you" that you talk about now, is just another image- the real you also changes from time to time- at each time you take a different snapshot- its a different picture.
ReplyDeleteDear D,
ReplyDeleteExactly... that is the irony intended to be brought out in that line. :-)