A Definition Of True Love In The Shape Of A Poem

Photo by  Alexander Yakovlev

Photo by Alexander Yakovlev

Love never dies or dissipates into nothing,
It exists in the air where the lovers kissed,
It exists in the paths they walked on,
The snow that evaporated stuck on their shoes,
The songs they heard on the radio at night
The air that passed through their car windows,
The clothes that were kept together
They were entangled like their lives
The half-drunken beers on the windowsills,
The poetry they wrote on cards with their personal jokes,
The nicknames of the people they both hated,
The fingerprints on each other’s skin and soul,
The candy wrappers under the car seats,
The rusty seat-belt of the passenger’s side,
The favourite shirt and dress of the other,
The funny way of tying ties
or the overworn pajamas while making burnt breakfast,
The early morning kisses,
The sunlight that never entered through the curtains,
The tears that fell on their friends’ shoulders,
The broken chip of the slammed door that creaks,
The torn posters on the living room wall,
The changed locks and new keys,
It exists in the accidental eye-contact on the street,
In the held breaths of anticipation
In the run across the jammed roads,
The I-missed-you kisses,
The No-it-was-my-fault tears.
The I’ll-never-let-you-go-for-the-rest- of-my-life hug.

Oshin Ahlawat is a young poet and writer based in New Delhi, India. “I believe people who write are like tornados and cyclones. We wreck a lot of lives; for better or worse. It all depends on the people who read our work. They decide where the damage is going to be; the heart or the mind and whether it’s going to be for the good or for worse. I wish to give them the choice to decide that. I’m just going to focus on doing what I want”, she says. 

Read all from this author