Fire Works.

By Rudra Pagar

We don't need to

To have conversations

which are intellectual,

Keep it down and low,

keep it asexually

textual.

I'm no longer using my reality

as my

excuse.

So here's to a funny hat

that's

tipping,

"that'll be all folking",

to all my misters

and our beautiful

missus.

You are either into cats or BDSM

when your thigh has a

circular bruise

showing off

an earnest display of

affection.

Too busy for the one

bombarding unadulterated

love,

down the memory lane

it took us,

when skin touched

first and then the

blood rushed.

Proving time travel real

by visiting the moment

of the first meet,

devouring the body

a little too harshly,

a tasty little treat

purring like a wanton sex kitten

my little pet,

my little blackout

in the middle of my

life,

making me question

is crossing your path

bringing bad luck

a superstition or a lie?

Like a firework in the sky

you enjoy it while the show lasts

and then it's lost

to the darkness of the night.

Reminisce

because the fireworks

can't unburst again.

Rejoice

because the show was

spectacular and vibrant

Remember

because down the

memory lane are

wounds that last.

I hope it was worth it in the end

and that you are really proud of

yourself

that you are not here with me

but I'll always be there with you

a part of your main narrative,

A past you can't erase

an excuse you can't run out of

a wound that's always fresh

because there is nothing

more everlasting

than a lover's

death.

By Rudra Pagar