THE CAVE OF ILLUSION: A love that few understand

I held his tongue in my mouth,

Warm, Wet, and yet,

My mind drifted away,

Up in the air, like a parachute,

And lingered in the misty troposphere,

Searching for a scorching sunny afternoon.

From the aerial vision,

I landed on a lush green lawn,

Nine years back, two girls,

She and I, working together,

In her garden, she had invited me,

She was my muse; she was to me,

 What Lucy might have been,

To William Wordsworth, back in the 1800s,

Her hands were in the soil, and her shirt was drenched with sweat,

She was laying the saplings; I carried the watering can,

The sweltering heat made me dizzy,

Yet her liveliness was peeling off my suffering,

Her tangled messy hair and her large sparkling eyes,

Her banter and her laugh, echoing through the orchard,

Her shriek when her fingers touched the worms,

Her parched lips and tanned skin, much like mine,

Then suddenly she was unable to bear the sun’s glare,

And stood up with her mucky hands,

She wanted me to unbutton her till her waist,

Startled, I looked around and shook my head,

The spot was always deserted, she informed,

And every man was out in the open-air market,

Anxiously, I unbuttoned the first one down her collar,

And looked away as her bosom swelled,

Platonic! Platonic! I had always wanted it to be,

So my face furrowed, my heart flinched,

And I hurried to the corner to throw up,

Concerned, she ran up to get me some water,

Oblivious of what she had done to me,

About to unveil what I had concealed for long,

My eyes went hollow, my skin got pale,

 I took my leave and hurried towards home,

And ran into six schoolmates, young girls,

At the entrance of the marketplace,

Standing around the ice cream stall,

They waved at me gleefully, inviting me,

But I refused to halt, I detested their company,

And I regretted that I had blushed at them in parties,

They, who would kiss one other,

Just for the sake of relating to a Katy Perry song,

Were adventurous, were experimental,

I was not; indeed I was dull and gauche,

Introvert and bashful,

And hopelessly in love,

The burning tears ran down my cheeks, they won’t stop,

Whether I passed through the Vegan market,

Or walked across the Butchers zone,

They all stared at me likewise, with disdain,

They had caught me; they knew who I was,

And who I was but evil to them all.

The blames upon me were like the stones,

That Virginia Woolf had collected in her overcoat,

And walked into the lake to drown herself,

Even I wanted to disappear, or dissolve in the air,

And so I did; unable to take it anymore, I jumped;

And darted back into the present, back into this winter morning,

In my lover’s arms, my best friend who knows me well,

Who knows how complex it is to be simple, or how intricate simplicity is;

But it doesn’t really matter, what has gone, or what is going on,

Perhaps I am the biggest coward or maybe a little brave,

As illusions and reality merge inside me,

I wish I knew better,

I wish I knew whether

I am in or out of Plato’s famous cave.

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