I am clear in my head and perhaps in heart that it is not love,
It is my own lack that I look to fill through you.
Isn’t it true that you also felt that you could fill your void with me?  
Isn’t it all what we look for, in a relationship?
Sometimes I want just that…
Why can’t we have our cup filled by someone?
Why is there an image of ideals and perfection…
That we have to be all for ourselves,
Not needing validation.
Why do we strive to be all?

How would I like to be loved?
It is a very difficult question
Because, though I appear, at first glance
To be "The Guy Next Door"
The reality, I assure you, is entirely different
Firstly, every individual is different
Secondly, I am autistic
And finally
There is so much about me
That you will get to know
Only if you are a good friend of mine

How would I like to be loved?
Well, let me tell you
Love is not all about candlelight dinners
Nor is it about *** in the bedroom
It is about being there for each other
No matter what
If I truly love someone
I would be ready to go to jail for her
Of course, not if it is for something ethically wrong
But you get the idea

How would I like to be loved?
If you have seen the Tamil movie "Thiruchitrambalam"
Then you would understand
If I were to say
That I want someone to love me
The way Nithya Menen loved Dhanush
In that amazing movie

How would I like to be loved?
If you've seen me at my worst
One of those days
When I am in one of my rages
And keep shouting and breaking things
Or I lose my focus at work
Due to all my insecurities
Rearing their ugly heads
Or I simply drown myself in my thoughts
Refusing to come out of my bed
Or I cry like a child
Drowning myself in a tidal wave of self-pity
And you still love me the same
As you did when I was at my best
Then it is indeed true love
Enough said

How would I like to be loved?
When I hear one of Harris Jayaraj's romantic melodies
And can instantly relate to it
I know that I am in love
And that love is real, not reel

How would I like to be loved?
If you ask me how was my day
And I go on and on
Droning about the technicalities of my work
Or cribbing about various issues
Such as candidates, clients or my boss
And you never tire of listening to me
Then I know you are truly in love
Also, if I keep asking you how was your day
Every single day after work
And you never once tire of answering such a mundane question
If that is not true love
I don't know what is!
And on that note
It's time to wrap up this little monologue
And return to hard reality

Who gave you the idea
That love is all about romance?
Love can be towards anybody
In this massive planet
Whether it be your parents
Or grandparents
Or siblings
Or cousins and relatives
Or even friends
And apart from these people
Love can exist in other forms too
Helping an elderly gentleman or lady
Cross a busy road full of speeding vehicles?
That's love
Running a langar to feed the poor and needy?
That's love
Running an NGO to treat cancer patients
As well as rehabilitate them after treatment
And engage them in useful work?
That's love
Cancelling your job interview
To take a victim of a road accident to the hospital?
That's love
Dropping your colleague off at his/her home after work?
That's love
Standing up to a bully who is picking on a few kids?
That's love
Feeding chapattis and biscuits to a few cats on the street?
That's love
Again, who gave you the idea
That love is all about romance?

To the one that disturbs my peace,
the angel of my thoughts,
your smile a constant reminder,
of our brief infidelity,
it was enough to fall in love,
unknowingly,
it pulled me back,
after I hurt you,
I came back,
After he killed you,
I'll save you,
if you let me,
I warn you,
of nothing at all,
I hope,
you are ok,
I'll wait,
I know you love me too,
I wonder what you see,
because
I am not him,
or them,
or us,
or me,
I will show you my truths,
that's what my love is.

A Red Rose that smells of the infatuation and curiosity.  
It's innocent purpose to lure and beguile the eyes That fall onto its silhouette.  

It's gorgeous.  
The way the crimson petals dance in the wind.

Is that fair?
A token of curiosity for the passage to a broken , lifeless heart?
A stone now more than flesh?

Not so long ago, another was presented.  
But it grew thorns on my side.
What is one more ?

And so now this remains admired from afar
Its beauty quickly fading.

Is it fair that it be judged as a poison?
And not as a white flag waived from that distance?
An apology not from the abuser.  
But a gesture intended to make up for that lost dream?

It is tempting i must admit.
To indulge in that sweet fragrance that lingers  .
But a poison never tastes bitter.
What to do?
What to say?
What to do?

The absolutely radical,
Mind boggling idea of being accepted.
-A fantasy served with insecurity
On the side, stained
With the lipstick you only wear
On third dates, the idea of
what love "should feel like"
Bubbling below the skin
Until you get blisters and boils,
sick and heady but starry eyed.
Ignoring the naysayers,
Oh so what if sleeping beauty
Gets roofied here.
The potential to get shattered,
Identity mutilated beyond recognition
Is, after all, a small price to pay
If you finally get to.. Belong.