Out of love - 97!

You spent all your life
Building those tiny boxes,
Of walls and locks,
How will you know
What captivity and freedom are
If your dream is to create a cell,
So dark!
——————
Amidst this race of
Getting this and that
Didn’t you forget
What you had?
—————-
That's the sorcery of knives
They are of two types, blunt & sharp
The blunt, the one which refuses to rip apart
Yet hurt immeasurably
The sharp, which cuts, rips, hurts, let go
The former is like an heartache,
The latter is your gold old heartbreak.
—————
Don’t be so cold my love,
That even the winter doesn’t,
Make you feel the warmth of
An innocent shiver.
—————
It’s okay, you weren’t trained to deal with fire,
Not surprised, that you and I couldn’t co-exist
—————-
But those who make love to the mellows, don’t indulge in one night stands with the merry.
—————-
How much pain is enough pain?
What amount of longing, is sufficient longing?
Till when should your fire, consume you?
Will the dark, translate into light?
Can plight, convert itself into might?
Is the end, going to begin?
————-
Even if you’re stretched from left and right, hold on to your centre, the moon said to the moon gazer.
—————-
Wars are attention seekers,
They demand to be warred with grace,
Nope, not fought,
Fights are too petty to even touch the stature of war.
——————-
What is soulful?
A sip of perfect latte?
A blanket of loneliness?
Warmth the winter beholds?
A hug from you?
A full moon?
Is it real?
Is it an illusion?
Did the Gods trade it?
Did a devil inhale it?
Is it lying in something green?
What. Is. Soulful.