When your vanishing act
You coerce me into an oblivion.
When your tongue turns
You strike dead the rebel in my words.
When you decide to empty
The wine glass
You expose my inebriation to reality —
— A torture of the worst kind.
If only we could love by halves
You at your own convenience
Me with my kind of permanence
You with propriety
Me with any lack of sobriety
You from behind fashionable caffeine
My eyes aglow with whiskey’s sheen
Your love dripping in rationed amounts
Mine eschewing any notions of bounds
You watching a step and more
Checking if we’re fine, always ashore
Keeping the depth and stillness at bay
Chasing a cautious, stable way
And I, just lurking
Managing to exist
In little rewards
Nods and smiles you fix
In bubbles of happiness
And shared conflicts
In memories of secrets
We’ve together built.
At times we’re tripping over
To something greater than shared laughter
To something still less than confessions of love.
If only we could love by halves.
If only halving this shared space was possible.
If only your limits didn’t conflict with my fluidity.
If only we could love a little more today,
A little less tomorrow.
If only your anger and my tears
Could exist on separate grounds.
If only you rationing possibilities was possible.
If only affection at an instant was quantifiable.
If only you could own your own
And allow my privileges to me.
If only halving love
Separating each other
A thought, then is —
Is love in halves
Love in wholes
Which exists in
Of scattered affection?
The bubbles should collide
This way. Or that.
PS – April is National Poetry Month. I have resolved (and like most resolves, I am prepared to lose in this one too) to write at least 15 poems in these 30 days. I have also decided to dedicate these poems to the many moments of rage/intensity I encounter daily, as well as to authors who help give perspective to those moments of rage/intensity.
Today’s bit is dedicated to Jane Austen, and this quote by her –
“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”