I was thinking about love the other day.
I couldn’t remember how it felt.
To love someone.
How skin feels on skin.
Explosions of oxytocin in the body,
And to explore the world together.
I’ve become too cold.
Even my poetry lacks passion
But do I want madness?
Do I want my Scorpio rising to pierce her?
Obsessive tendencies, and the natural need to worship beauty.
No, I can’t compromise anymore
Be stoic.
Maybe, there’s no need to for poetry anymore.
And yet there is a song in my heart, and it sings even in my darkest moments.
(C) A.R. Minhas 2019
