I remember walking on the
beach in Mahabalipuram,
the waves raging,
the winds howling,
the pages on which I penned
a poem for you swept away
and I thought
that the rage that made that
moment, the celestial anger
that burned through both
the earth and the ocean
described us perfectly —
two ill-fated lovers
like magnets repelling each other.
I gave into my cruder, baser
instincts that one night
which titillated you,
making you surrender to lust,
and in that moment we
made promises in breathy whispers
and held each other, saying
we’d let the other know everything,
but thinking back, our passion meant
nothing, and our ecstasy
was without substance.
Perhaps we were never lovers
to begin with, and I doubt
we’ll be friends unless we let
the other in. So let the ocean
sweep the debris and ashes
away because the smiles
and tears only amounted to a
weak simulacrum of love
and everything that comes with it.
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