1 BHK

That night some rain conspired
and stole clouds from your sky
to pour down on me.

Love is what turns a why to a how.
So you never questioned.
I drenched, wondered, wandered.

Window is an escapade for poetry.
And my decor is un-weak.
So in our world there are only rooms.
Doors can be latched,
Unlike your memories and my emotions.
I haven't let them yet.

We can cook up love, is it?
Moments are kept in spice jars.
Never mix them while they are there.
It may smell.
I will bring you fire.
Burn.

Let us go deep.
Here is the bed where
A platonic you meets a real me.
Chiffon hesitance may rest,
We will only whisper tonight.

Beneath this, there is a grave
which lies as a witness to many a sobs.
Never visit there with naked feet.
You will at once know its our dark
that I have still preserved.

Ask me why.
An irrelevant me will answer,
Even our saddest moments were too special
to let go by.

Do not plant a kiss yet.
We have no doors.

SoUmY@