March 31, 2006

A different kind of love

How beautiful his words
Mirrors that reflect me
Melancholic yet happy
His words are the hands that stroke my brow
The arms that engulf me
And hold me close to his heart's warmth

How passionate his words
A symphony of language
A splash of colour
That speak my meaning

I am the ventroloquist's dummy
Moving my lips
While his words speak

I am in love not with him
But with his words
Which make her love
So much truer

3 comments:

swati said...

Really like this one. do your poems come from your personal experiences or is it just based on anything? this one reminds me of my relationship except the last stanza coz my version would be

I am in love not with him
But with his words
Which makes my love
Not true at all


Keep up the fabulous work

lata

kojo said...

The words usually come from something personal. Sometimes it is merely a reaction to something I reading, watching, listening to, etc. This one was written in the middle of reading a biography of Truman Capote.

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