The more I live out my booze-soaked existence,
trying hard to claw out of a bog of nothingness
and to grasp at meaning, substance,
and identity, the more I question the authenticity
of this thing we call love. Is it real and
palpable emotion that leads to catharsis,
defeating all regret, and never letting go?
Or is it click-bait pretense that’s one gaudy show
of theatrics and emoticons –
something we profess though we’re
cold and dead inside?
I wish I knew the answers to the questions
I ask and with peace cloaking my doubt-riddled
mind could move on,
I wish I knew if I love you sincerely
because if I did, we’d have closure and know
if we’re only attempting to stay together
though that portrait of who we are
lies burning in the fireplace,
or if this home we’ve created
is genuine and each touch
means something more than foolish fabrication
and yearning for what we’ll never have.
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)