THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Love and I, we're not exactly friends.
We tiptoe around each other, silent footsteps and uncertain hearts.
We play hide-and-seek in a shoebox, not enough room to run but plenty to stay apart.

Love and I are like the horizon.
We never truly meet.
We rendezvous as a forbidden couple does, stealing glances when the other isn't looking, hoping for a moment's thrill to bloom into an eternity's calm.
It never does.

Love and I, we're a constellation nobody wants to string together anymore.
We dangle from the edges, waiting to be caught.
Only the abyss opens its arms for us.

Love and I, we're a story that always ends on a cliffhanger.
We write our names in the sand and pray the earth remembers us.
We rollerblade on water.
The waves still wash us away.

Love and I, we vow to meet when the sun sheds snow.
Then we wonder why we haven't met yet.
I keep love in my heart like I keep flowers in a vase.
Carefully, but always meant for death.

Love and I, we stare at happiness from the sidelines.
If life is a football game, then love and I rot on the bleachers.
If love is a violin, then I'm its broken strings.
Who listens to a wailing violin anyway?

Love and I, we're two parallel lines racing till we meet.
The race never ends.

Love and I, we stand in the desert but dream of rain.
We smile at the oasis, only till our reflections remind us it is all in vain.

Love and I, we forever promise to sail to the shore.
Is that why the ocean is filled with abandoned oars?

Love tells me the truth, I tell it my sorrows.
Love boasts its happiness, I ask for some to borrow.
Love leaves again, and I lay hollow.

So when you next bring me love on a platter, don't frown if I drop it.
If you summon before me an ocean of love, don't hate me for running to the mountain.
If you serve me all the world's love in a vial, don't be surprised if instead I ask for the poison.