I know this much.
I am heading for ashes.
Knowing this,
Having known this for quite some time,
I float above forms,
And above objects with names.

Now and then
My eyes are caught,
In her diamond looks,
By her unresponsive face.

We could have left it like this
And I could have moved on.

But the trouble is,
I imagine a kinder, softer
Version of her body, of her face,
Thinking there is a place for me
In the heart in it.
The next moment, I am no longer floating,
But falling, aiming for her eyes.

Wishing to be ashes before my fall ends.

Another pedantic poem.
On another fantastic you.

Featured image: Three Girls by Amrita Sher-Gil via

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