Ages of Love


It's my first day at school,

Dad left, dropping me outside the class

with a roomful of kids, resembling to monsters

Clamoring constantly.

Just when I begin to bawl

A boy holds my hand and walks me to the class.

Named Prem or some metaphor for love, I always forget, 

sits next to me,

shares his faber castle crayon set during art class plays with my spiderman pencil box

and I survive the day.

Same routine follows,

Until i pick 3 more friends and walk past him to the class for the entire session.

I still have his crayons.

Another metaphor for love, I always forget his name,

Is an almost grownup

wears a cricket jersey almost fitting to his skinny demeanour at almost every inter school sports day tournament

And as usual, pitted to the running squad, I happen to watch every practice tournament.

He makes an eye on me and another one on the crease, elevating his chances of a run out and a clean bowled at the same time.

As I win the race, he congratulates me asking for the two things he needed the most

some running tips and a much awaited conversation.

As i progress with the former, it merges into latter with

him handing out a picture of spiderman asking me to turn it over,

With the other side painted "i love you, star runner" in bold capital.

And i merge the latter to former

giving him the best running tips of his life.

Yes, i don't even turn back.

Love has a bike, a stubble covered around a perfect jawline this time,

And everything else that screams attitude.

His attendance is short and so is his ego.

So, he asks for help in studies.

I teach him after the lectures.

He doesn't carry a backpack, eats off my tiffin

Drinks water from my bottle, and walks to the gate with me, just boyish things,

I thought.

He asks for notes, sometimes i lend

And most times not, cause he manhandles them,

Just like his heart he carelessly lost on me.

My friend tells me about that.

He messages, calls and tries to talk to me a million times after the love declaration debacle

But i don't entertain him anymore.

He failed that year, I topped.

Love wears a shirt and a trouser, and an id card

And holds countless dreams in his heart

He is tough, silent, introvert all at the same time

And wore spiderman t shirt last friday,

So perfect.

He seldom talks to me, mostly drifts apart

Borderline ignores me and I don't even try to make an eye contact

For he clearly isn't into me, he made fun of my face the other day, but it doesn't hurt...cause he is no Tom Cruise either 

With a clobbered heart, I comfortably step aside

Cause i can't hold his hand and walk him into the odc

I can't draw him a picture of his favourite superhero(batman) asking him to turn it over

Neither can I declare my love in the middle of the canteen for him

 i know how it'll end.

because i know it's my chance now

To explore this side of the tunnel.

Love has been a therepy

And ignoring it,

a lifetime of a habit.

Now it's love's turn to settle scores with me.

Its 3-1, and I am still winning...

Though, should i be scared?

Living my most authentic existence as a wordsmith. Rest everything is a glitch.

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