A kind of love poem

i’ve been pretending
that i don’t need
anyone to caress me
in the quiet of an hour
as time is passing
and moving outside the places
clasped in my reach

i know how foolish it is
to make out that castles
might keep against time
when they’re eroding
fading away with each tick
of the clock
but i can’t help it
if you reach
to hold me
i blink in your light
and then i need
to turn you away

when i’m alone
i feel so small
the world that’s around me
is crowding me out
i feel surrounded
by people and things
that are out of control

hands that tremble
are a constant reminder
that i’m a fragile affair
balanced on the edge
of a blade
and even needing someone
can’t change the outlook
of a solitary mind
that’s confusing itself
from inside

perhaps it’s better
if you turn your head
don’t stay to watch
contortions of a fool disarrayed
by the burden
of trying to belong

---

© Frank Prem, 2000

Published in The Brown Critique (India) July – October 2001