Mi Amore

By Isha Gupta 

My love is like a cold desert 
You won't know what hit you until you wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for air/ 
His, like a dingy motel room 
It'll be cold and rusty, with unwashed blankets and questionable mattresses, but it'll protect you from rain/ 
My love likes to stay up too late and wake up too early
No one sees it coming, no one sees it go/
His, like a lazy Sunday morning 
With drawn out bubble baths, breakfast in bed, and reruns of old TV shows/
My love feels like burning black coffee 
It'll scald you until you can't feel your existence, but god forbid you if you don't drink until the very last sip/
His love, his love will share an umbrella with you when it's storming out
Even if half it's legs get drenched/
My love is a solitary sleeper
His love loves to cuddle 
My love wears gloves during winter 
His love holds hands 
My love likes cats 
His love prefers dogs 
My love writes angsty poetry 
His love pens love letters 
My love solves newspaper crosswords 
His love reads the comic section 
My love is black 
His, is white 
My love, my love destructs, 
His love, it heals. 

2 comments

  • Love it!!

    Nidhi
  • Beautiful.

    Saumya

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