More than a hazy kind of love

I wanted more than a hazy kind of love. Sure, the pills gave me a glow, and the sex with her was electrifying, but we soon plummeted into some anti-catharsis, some dark, smog filled pit of despair as the effect wore out, and once it did, we needed that external stimulation to keep us going – some ephemeral high, lightening our crosses, and with each drag or pop, we waltzed round and round in a room which only looked serene because beneath each shade of blue lay something rotten, threatening to overwhelm and envelope us, and I couldn’t handle it anymore: That life, that false nirvana lulling us along to some imagined song, and so I walked away, even though I loved her, but thinking back, was it love or clinging to a false pillar, thinking it supports? Was it romance or induced delusion by two minds fallen into complete abandon, and broken hearts barely beating? But I’m putting those questions aside darling, because as I searched and hungered, never finding solace in the parting of the clouds at dawn, or the slow cadence of the cool air, I looked and saw you, standing right beside beauty’s home – the architecture something exquisite, intricate and divine, with lanterns of love lacing the front yard with a delicate expression of affection, and I carried you in my arms, and walked right in, breathing each scent of this new home and tasting the flavor of your skin, imbibing the soft beige walls and the dusky mild chocolate cupboards while I planted each kiss and absorbed your natural middle-complexion: so alluring, so bone-chilling, letting the waters of substance engulf me, while you did the same.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

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15 responses

    • Yeah. It actually comes from both a place of despair and joy. I think you understand what I mean. Thank you so much for all the support my friend.

    • I’m guessing that you liked it! Thank you for all the support my friend. I often think of giving up writing, but then there are a few people who actually read and appreciate, and I’m grateful.

      • I don’t know. It’s like I long for utter solitude sometimes. I just want to go to some monastery in the mountains with my books and just not write at all. But at the same time, like you said, it keeps me going. It’s weird right? The more I understand myself and the world, the more I want to be severed from it, but I also want to write. I’m sorry. I’m just rambling. And thanks. I love your writing btw.

      • Nope not rambling, that state of mind that you are defining is completely resonating to me. Trust me, I am all about solitude in mountains. Infact, that’s my dream to live alone with my cigars up there and not to be able to talk to anyone. Anyone!! Legit.
        But see, I am too rambling.
        Anyway, let’s not be depressed once again, I am already trying to be more positive and composed. Let’s wish good things only.

        I wish you love and light, Nitin.

      • Thanks though. At least someone understands. I’m all for the cigars! I prefer Marlboro Red because I chain smoke, but hell, I’ll smoke a good cigar. And you’re right. Let’s try and stay positive. I wish you love and light too my friend. And thanks again for the conversation. It cheered me up.

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