by Fiza Pathan
Love cuts through the whole body like a merciless thorn, and it is remnant of the spikes on a cactus.
When the prick comes, we do not know; and when the blood is drawn, we lie in wait of ecstasy.
But till that miserable love takes the last drop of red life giving liquid, it shows us the heavens delights to cloud our thoughts.
It’s a throbbing pain that stings ones peace, and enters ones dreams like a shameless thief,
Then it murders feelings and emotions-only its form remains in one’s memory.
It bites the fingers of the lover; it’s dangerous for those who are unprepared to be in its clutches.
It will never let go of you till you are dead, and then after that it remains around in the elements.
The cry of the lover is loves victory; the torture of the heart is in the form of thunders lightning.
This love will never go away; once it’s within you it feeds on the lover like a parasite.
And if one day it decides to leave us-that means we have reincarnated into a new body,
After wasting one whole life, praying for the prick of love to leave us.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/850776