I am a hopeless romantic.
I wish I’d been drunk
When I penned this down.
Perhaps liquor or any other such poison
Would justify a love letter to grief.
But let us suppose that I am drunk,
Why would this drunk man drink?
Pain, agony, sorrow;
Drowning irrevocable loss;
Making the noises go away;
Or perhaps even to find an escape
That feet that refuse to move
Cannot, or rather, will not provide.
Remember, I am not drunk
I just wish I were.
Much like, I have no reason to feel grief.
Yet as the sun bids good bye
And the night welcomes sleep
I pen this love letter.
Why do I loyally, unjustifiably romanticize you?
So much so, that pleasure reserved for beautiful maidens
Falls onto you, my muse.
Perhaps, this is the human condition
Or at the very least, mine.
For, I am a poet looking for reasons
To justify a love, I already feel.
Perhaps I am drunk
Perhaps you are the poison,
I have succumbed to.
Don’t let this realization worry you, my love,
For until I sober up,
I will still be in love,
And this will still be your letter.
By Anirudh Dalmia
Painting by Rebecca TY