I’m in love with what I cannot touch 

The truth in its bare bones, I write on the remnants of what society once was. Or at least what we always hope it to be. 

I’m in love with what I cannot touch, 

It’s at the back of my mind 

Sometimes almost within my reach

I cannot make its outlines in the blurriness of my mind

Its touch is of snowflakes melting at the very touch of my hand

Like wilted petals it crumbles,

Like ashes it falters within my palms

Unable to stomach the injustices of life.

Its form is of foam 

Vanishing in the very heat of reality

I’m in love with what I cannot touch

Its faint lips chime my ears with melodies of our inseparable love

Peace, trust and honesty are the maiden names of my bride

The utmost foundation of my pride

The purest seed ever known

But such a personality society would not condone 

With her demise they chose a replacement,

“A sister of reality”,  they say,

-“A fitting match of my deceased”, they utter 

Yet in her way –

A contrast of all things that matter

Peace love and honesty she tears to bits,

Crashing every inch of my wits

In agony.

In their place, she breeds pretense, deceit and lies beyond measure

What is life if man cannot wish?

What are wishes if they never hold any truth?

Cast me in sleep never to wake again.


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