152. My Taj Mahal

I wrote this, aeons ago ; the context, then, was fictitious!
I felt like editing it and reposting it again... so there!!
My mind has called in sick... so you will only get to listen to borrowed and/or old words for a while now, until it reports back!! :) :) :) enjoy nonetheless!!
---------------------------------------------
Why do I write of love?

It is neither pressing
nor impressing
nor depressing

Why do I write of love?

It knows no grammar
It holds no glamour

Then why do I write of
the skies in his eyes on restless days
the storms in my gasps on turbulent nights

Why?

---------------------

I keep moving on
from one story to another
leaving tombs on dead ones
in faceless times
in nameless places
clueless
about the next tombstone.

-----------------------

In the courtyard next to mine,
they are celebrating.

Another love story died today.

Time for yet another Taj Mahal
a tomb
not for a lost lover
but for a love story
dead & dusted.

So tonight
I write of love
I write my last Taj Mahal .

until tomorrow.

-------------------------------------------------