Love is more like a cone
than a cube
two rounded tops
curved like a tube
steeping down to a peak
soft like ice-cream sweet
and smooth

Love is more like two spheres
than a flat crest
beautifully moulded
and rounded
like a woman’s breast
perfectly placed here
(pointing to my chest)

Love is more like a triangle
than a square
sharp at a point
then curves from there
ends at a downward angle
then circles to the start
It’s symmetrical, identical
made of two equal parts

love is more like
the shape of my heart

I’m stuck between a letter and a word
pushing towards the end of a line
in many a meaning, I’ve shamefully erred  
to make sense of a sentence and a rhyme
all this effort consumes me
It bleeds my heart to think
my soul is weighing heavy
till poetry pours out of me like ink
many a thought often slay me
I rewrite to find release
I’m lost, till you find me
crying out, “read me…please”

I hate sunsets
the calm summer breeze
fragrant walks of jasmine
restful shade of cherry trees
I hate the hope of open sky
The whispers of oceans blue
because everything that is beautiful
reminds me of you

I hate old smiles with wrinkled eyes
The sound of children's glee
bedside books and biscuits
the scent of cinnamon tea
I hate the silver moonlit nights
the love infused fumes of two
because everything that is beautiful
reminds me of you

I hate the white in this paper
the black that bleeds this ink
The very word ‘beautiful’
and every time of you I think
though my life be filled with beauty
the things I love are a few
in as much as I hate everything
I’ll never stop loving you.

‘In her eye
is a butterfly’
I know…
sounds like you’ve heard this poem before
…may sound crass
But alas…allow me, a word or more

You may find
in the next few lines
what may sound a familiar tune
like butterflies and stars
heartaches and scars
or another poem about the moon

but…
this one’s eyes are rare
like caterpillars they’re
brought alive without a womb
and she breathes new life
with the flutter of  her eyes
yet she needs no cocoon