To the one’s who are waiting
I had painted this when I finished my 10th: 9 years back.
Painting always came back to me when I was crossing borders in bouts. It always did knock, tapping to check, if there were still guts which can surface.
If the course could change.
afraid of the noise, the veering would have caused,
I always disappointed it. It still clung.
Lovers who get stranded because they demand too less
because you are fine not looking your best when meeting them
because they don't entice you with grandeur
because they never tell you, how madly they want you.
they listen to you when you bleed, moaning about the one you chose,
and then you go back once you are healed.
Why? Why not?
I am just afraid of my incapability to answer both.
I never learnt how to use a brush and alas, I am unable to forget it even.
That's the problem, you know they'll stay and you make them wait,
yourself waiting for the guts to surface. Forever.
You aren’t cheating them, but yourself.
