Bloom

This heart blooms and blooms
Leaving quiet budding season,
Emerging from mud.

——

One of my friends complained why all my poems are about love, like I am either falling in love or broken hearted day by day.

After some time of chat and juice against wine glasses that friend answered one’s own question.

“Ya! Life is about loving: smoothly or broken-heartedly. Now I know what you mean. I thought all were about romance! Ahhh!”

I tried a sip of wine from that friend’s glass.

“You’ll get drunk more at home and write more love poems!” Said that friend laughing.

“Yes, I won’t give up this love whatever interpretation is thrown about me to me. I am thankful enough to have very few true friends who understand.”

Salaam.

true love is too tasteless for those weighing it with money; yet too complex for those weighing it with faith — for those not knowing the true secrets behind words, love is just a marriage between distrust and fear hidden in sparkling plastic 🙃 i know love is still beautiful whether it is well understood or misunderstood 💕