By Shriparna Biswas
In the depths of night, what do you long for most?
I hesitate... love, I whisper.
Love where I am cherished for all that I am, in the fullest sense of the word.
Love where I am left alone.
They say lovers stay close, that love clings and never lets go.
Yet why do they profess love, only to turn away?
Why do they claim to love me, yet I feel so unloved?
Why is it that love which loves brings misery?
Why is it that they love me, yet love remains elusive?
I know that love leaves and only comes back conditionally,
therefore my love too is bounded by conditions.
Yet I’ve come to see I’ve never truly known love.
For the essence of love eludes me.
How do I offer what I’ve never known?
How do I write love letters when I hold not even a letter of love within?
Perhaps the salt of tears is love’s true taste.
Or the occasional violent blows are a symbol of eternal love?
Or is love the sting of my ears as they burn under cruel jests?