I loved you in every tenderness of breath -
as the river loves the infinite sea,
it wastes itself to find its meaning,
and gives back without voice.
In those days, love was my master,
and your will was my unseen shackle.
One look from you,
was it enough to turn my storms to quiet?
How many nights I called your name -
under moons that forgot to come,
as stars shivered like prayers
anguished before squeezing out the answer.
My mouth gathered the silence like money from sea,
but you, indifferent,
sitting on the other end of my longing,
as still as marble.
And then one morning -
after desire folded its wings,
after anticipation disintegrated into a small pile of dust in my palms -
I turned home,
to the vegetable plot of my very own heart.
And I saw there was a bud -
the one that I walked over for you,
the humble self,
waiting like a cat asleep after rain.
I reached out of fatigue,
and that person held my trembling hand,
not with fervour,
but with calm.
And in that simple hold,
the prisoner in me melted,
and freedom broke forth like the first light on the water.
And then I knew -
love is useless so long as it's a begging bowl.
It is not the benevolence of another's heart
but the dignity of one’s inside
that can make love truly great.
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