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How strange can love be  ,

You put all your heart on my heart

knowing that it beats for another

several anothers

anothers, who will never be mine .

Those  anothers , well

they put their heart on  another anothers

knowing that those another anothers

often don’t have  a heart

and what beats is something else .

In any case however

in every case however

Our hearts resemble a piece of property

mortgaged easily   to that ” someone special “

or are often ,  like a room 

rented readily , again for that “someone special”

but with always a little room  , for someone else ,  just in case .

or is it like an amount

to be always paid in advance

but amounts , all amounts  are corrupting my friend

for love never really  cared about amounts

but only amounted to pain

if  , it had no amount .

How strange can love be .

we all win ,

yet we all lose

we all lose,

yet we all win

always , at the heart

be it alone or conquered .

How strange can love be

the more you struggle to run away

the deeper you get trapped in it .

Just like a quicksand , slow and steady

but this trap , it frees you

frees you from everything

everything ,  

perhaps even you .

How strange  indeed can love be

Even after all this truth

you still have a little bit of me left in your heart

like the mud that sticks behind the shoe

resistant to everything .

While I put all my hopes

on an impossible heart

 whom I hope to meet  , one day .

 Your heart , it brings light

 and I always shy away from it

yet I never fully  admit

that I have always been afraid of darkness.

How strange can love indeed  be .

But Love  ,  oh love  ! it was  never really  strange

it was always like that  friend

whom we all  abandoned  ‘

for someone or something else

that which always  alluded us .  

                                                                                                                                                     Arijit Roy

                                                                                                                           (poem and photograph)



learning to fly like those angels did a long time ago ...

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