by Medhavi Gupta
Allaying Throes
You and I,
All the fallacies of young love
Cliched excuses
So many “firsts”
Ponderings of existential dread
“Why can’t people get married in silence?”, you remarked
“Beats me,” I laughed
From queen to idiot whore
What I mean to you, changes galore
Your musings turned out to be an unfamiliar lore
“You are just three holes”
I am afraid of August, afraid that you’ll call
“Shut up bitch”
Now I don’t even twitch
Used to stitch up scenarios
Of the two of us in the mountains, beaches and more
Though I never took off my clothes,
You stripped me of my inhibitions
Saw me at my rawest form
Like the silence before the storm
Made me believe, this was the norm
Now I wander from home to home
Call them muses, but not for long
I have learned to catch and let go
Of embracing the mayhem of marauders
Not wandering too far in the transient showers
Building something within myself
Something to come back to, after every mayhem