Demise of Love

Ankita Taneja

Sometimes love happens,
In a bus full of strangers,
Or a room full of art,
Or the queue outside the ATM,
Or in poetry events,
It happens.
It starts with a stare.
Sometimes love happens,
Beyond religions,
Between orange and green,
In a barrier free land,
Of red sky and blue grass,
Of the lord as one,
And not Hanuman and Allah.
It starts with a stare,
But the evil spirit of society,
Bans it all on the stare,
For merging orange and green results in brown,
And brown is flawed,
Unreasonably conflicting.
Sometimes love struggles,
Being an odd one,
Like a faded leaf,
In a garden full of green grass.
Sometimes it gets hit,
By an unwanted accident,
Because the red light turns green,
Skipping the yellow one.
Sometimes love fights,
In endless wars,
And sleepless nights,
Imagining victories,
In an imaginary garden,
It fights.
Sometimes love lives,
Long after love is killed,
With sharp knives,
And bullets for peace,
In a land full of illusion,
With a bigger infinity.
It flows like the wind,
To only blow and take with it
The very same love that happened.
Sometimes love happens,
Sometimes love struggles,
Sometimes love fights,
Sometimes love dies,
As everything else does,
Because it must.

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