Love, Catalogued


What they said of love

was functional

and dyslexic.

Love got us

wrapped up

in one blanket,

sleep patterns waiting to shift.

We cried

about death –

of people not known;

of people known;

 of it happening to them all.

We went up a carousel

for a different worldview.

We felt deeply about

the world

and the words that

didn’t fit between us, sometimes.

And nothing at all some other times.

We lifted up our souls a little

and tried putting them next to each other’s.

We made furrows of hope

and buried the non-believers’ bit

deep inside them.

We wavered, splintered,

even fragmented a little.

But kept walking,

hand-made emotions resting

in the dent of our palms


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