Oriental Romantics

June 18, 2017

You see we are both aphoristic,

Sadistic, pessimistic,

Petty and pedantic,

Silly oriental romantics

 

 

Blue dragon with the eye of the tiger,

embedded in your right thigh,

I ask for your name but all your lips give me,

Is the static noise of a cold sigh,

 

I call your name that I learned from a stranger,

Casual conversations that dropped into my lap like an apple in Cambridge,

You choose to ignore when I want to return your book,

And walk so very straight ahead, it almost feels aimless

 

I hold my gaze steady like a lotus,

through the muddy pond of rejection,

Into the centre of your imperfect pretty mind,

Cluttered by the guise of perfection

 

Hold out your hand and feel the crease of your palm,

Fit into my fingers like a paper lock,

We could be strangers, but if you give me a chance,

I might earn your love if you hear me out

 

I might at times be temperamental,

You can get corny and sentimental,

We can both at times be pedantic,

like silly oriental romantics

 

You ride unabashed on your little origami cycle,

Folding whenever you see a stranger,

I sit lackadaisical like a praying mantis shrimp,

My fists trained for a blow at the first signs of danger,

 

We are both silly little people in an orderly world,

Of rituals, landing into faux pas too often,

Like two parts of a nihilistic punchline,

From a joke that is over centuries forgotten

 

Burning petals of our favourite flower,

Incense sticks to worship what we love,

Oh make me one with the smoke that dances,

Knowing the calm of now may give way to the turbulent

 

Stealing glances while lonely in other's company,

 

Hoping that we could form a deep connection,

But then always we argue on two parallel planes,

Of the same issue never meeting at a consensus

 

But when I hear your sorry goodbyes,

Sitting at the edge of my favourite branch,

On that tree whose roots run deep into the ground,

I just want you to hold you and say this out loud

 

You say that we are not suited,

Our connection is ill computed,

But we both know those are just idle antics,

From two silly oriental romantics

 

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