The Love I Chase

By Ojeswi Medisetti

I cannot afford the love I praise,

the wind hums its final song

with the fear of colours being wrong,

this world of abundant life

cannot kiss my reluctant skies,

could I sleep my sickness away?

kindness is the veil—their way,

wild noose chase into fifteens—

would I long to burn in the fifties?

no curse will surely surrender

to a severed being born in december,

yet the universe is me

when I burn the last plea,

no more cloudy mirrors to tear the sun,

after aeons of a stifling embrace—

I want to afford the love I chase.

By Ojeswi Medisetti