Oblivion, is your breath-taking smile
And mud on our shoes.

"Your eyes look wild," she says with tired concern.
It must be true, but it can't be helped.

My thoughts feel feral,
gnawing at themselves like a confused animal
with a wounded foot.

In your dream this morning you were running late,
fumbling with leather straps of equipment
that used to fit you better.

You heard their voices through the walls.
Sounds without form.
Your friends are skating on fresh ice.

Lonely, hungry, bleeding in the brush
the feral does not wish for company.
He does not remember he is alone.

But cold skin wishes for sun,
empty bellies whisper of food,
thirst does not ask, but orders a drink.
Your next breath is not a choice.

Life does not always find a way,
but Death does,
like water finding the end of every crack.

What Life finds it steals from Death,
and plays with like a toy,
until the toy becomes the player.

1
**I like your light makeup,
mangled logic that never
served its intended purpose,
the svelte figure that creates
an awareness indelible on proportion,
and the intelligence you have
to keep it just as petite
all through the years
the out law male chauvinist, that  lurks in me is pleased,
lopsided analysis of contemporary affairs
you make,  allows me
to intervene, put you back to the track.
I dig the coiffure that makes the birds think,
its their nest, newly built.
Your purple prose I learned to like,
as it gets more and more evocative.
Syrupy songs you write, and sing
used to get one bored easily
no more, your emotions now are
more rooted and move me very much.

you know better than any one, how much I love bitter concoctions you cook.
2
But then
I realize that the cadence you create is unique,
you look life at its *** and frown,
your poems though rare, show plenty of evidence
of quirky charm, which I like.
Your weepy stories and convoluted plots too
I learned to like, all these are just habits, right?
They bear a stamp of your originality I can vouch,
love your starry eyes when each is filled with admiration,
for me in those special moments,
when I pull you out of quagmires
time after time.
3
I can't take eyes off your face,
exuding such innocence,
that vouches your genuineness,
each time that assures me that
you cannot ever be bad,
unless you want to portray
yourself that way cleverly.
Though not my cup of tea,
I love the gizmo culture you love,
your craze for computer games,
(though bit bizarre at this age!)
I enjoy it and get fascinated when you go too far.
You love to make love in the dark,
I later learned to appreciate  its tactile advantages,
and encouraged you unleash the panther in you, on me
though I love to do it with lights on
so that we can see the rainbow
the moment it spreads on ,
till it dissipates and we dive deep in to sleep.
4
You touched my depth in a way different,
made it possible to love the woman you are-
the way you are,  I love it
because, you are unique,with all imperfections
together we are complete.