Loving Anya

By Brinda Sarma

What is love?

A red rose on Rose Day or is it a spectacular date planned on Valentine's Day ?

Is it falling asleep in each others arms at night and kissing each other morning at the break of dawn?

 

Love ... An abstraction solidified by humans aeons ago.

Cupid, Aphrodite, Venus, Kamadeva.

Name assigned, intangible emotions defined.

Are these temporal images all there is to love?

 

Love. One syllable .

As common a word, as butter is to toast

As universal word, as the sun is to our solar system.

But as complicated a concept, as metaphysics to an ant.

 

So many adjectives attached to it, it possesses many epithets.

Romantic, platonic, spurned, forbidden.

Forbidden, a word dipped in mystery

Forbidden, a word whispered by lonesome shadows

Forbidden,a word when found, a curse.

 

To me, love is forbidden.

To me, love is silently tracing her name in the shadowy corners of my mind because my pen cannot afford to loop those letters across these fragile pages.

To me, love is silence.

It is the feeling of warm breeze brushing against my cracked lips because hers can't... ever.

 

To me, love is my thigh touching hers underneath the table our skins longing to imbibe themselves in each others pores but no, Anya NO... it is forbidden.

So our hearts sigh beneath our muscle-bound flesh.

 

To me, love is shivering underneath the bed covers as her sermons of love rush into my ears, into my very brain through the headphones overwhelming my senses entirely, unequivocally, until all thought is gone except her name, oh my goddess golden, it is her name I sing, her name that my body vibrates to ; my personal deity, she is my religion!

My fingers dig deep into me, as I offer up my prayers to her splendour, as chaste a woman as a woman in love can be...

And she answers them, merciful goddess oh praise her, praise me! She is answers them; images of her slender fingers replace mine inspecting every inch of my core, purifying my being to the depths of my soul.

 

To me, love is a conundrum; feeble in its impression but innate, burning deep into my retina unknown to others.

To me love is Anya and her silhouette, stolen

It resides in my heart.


13 comments

  • It’s awesome!!!

    sheena chugh
  • This is an emotional and passionate write.

    Joyce
  • Love. This word suffices for you. ❤️

    Jaskiran
  • I love this so much :’) Please check out my blog https://mycaffeinediaries.wordpress.com/ it will mean a lot :’)

    Riya Singh
  • ❤️❤️Letera likhiso be bhai … Val lagise ❤️❤️

    Sibu
  • No words needed to talk about how amazing this is ?

    Devanshi
  • No words needed to talk about how amazing this is ?

    Devanshi
  • Just loved it!!! ??

    Debashree Das
  • Love. Absolute bloody love??

    Raj Tekwani
  • Hay gurl, this is amazing.
    I’m proud of you, keep writing! ❤️

    Roulette
  • You know it touched you thoroughly when goosebumps are one of the things that it induced in you.

    Aayushi
  • So beautiful!! ♥️♥️

    Ansa
  • YAAAAS ❤❤❤

    Bhavya Sinha

Leave a comment