Muffin

Freshly baked goodness, he disliked the taste.
The odious scent makes him vomit even from this distance.
Selfishly trying to deny to give these muffins a chance.
He didn’t want the world to know,
That he could be vulnerably pleased by something so simple.
He wanted things rough.
The texture of smoothness was disgusting to his buds.

The baker, so tensed and fearful,
She looked into this man’s eyes,
Somehow far yet connected.
That made him feel even more powerful.
The sight of her questioning eyes either repulse him,
Or it made him even more certain.
That these muffins are poison.
To his beliefs and to his mundane way of living.

He turned his back interrogating himself,
Why didn’t she offer her muffins to me?

While she turned her back almost teary.
The feeling of disappointment for a rejection such as that
Fueled her to acquire better recipes from all over the world.
And she swore to make the best baked muffins.
Not for him but for the next passerby!

Virtual

I am back in that familiar shore.

Within grasp yet unfamiliar.

Amidst the space of the Known and the unknown.

Completely crushed, unaware of what’s causing it.

I always want to wash my hand,.

I do not want to touch my phone.

Grasp of it brings this electrifying pain.

It’s absorbed by the core of my being.

Physical pain is hard to deny.

Much more emotional tragedy.

I am on the other side of the line.

Your visual, I mean virtual presence is there too.

Only, I am focused on you.

You are on another.

I am shaking uncontrollably.

Your coldness can pass through continents and reach me.

Your apathy and indifference can claw me open in this unparalleled minute!

I am a victim of your blanket of wordy warmth.

The flowery utters that replaced all those freshly picked ones from the garden.

I am smart yet I fell for that unbelievably!

Beyond the concept of my ,used to be peaceful, hypothalamus.

I was misled, or I misled myself?

Our exchanges might be virtual yet my feelings turned real!

It’s stirred together with the stream of my white and red blood corpuscles.

It is fucking real!

I wish it’s not.

The favourable taste of our so-called-relationship is now a spoiled soup.

It makes not only my gastro-intestinal parts ache.

Even my heart, brain my faith in trust and love and men!

My emotions are swelling with the infection of missing you badly.

Even the strongest antibiotics couldn’t cure it.

Only You can…

Only if you are not busy being a vitamin to another!