Ode to My Kaboklei

She wants to be a poet
to write me love sonnets
as she knows all i have is poetry
to offer to this world of misery

she held my hand took me to the lane
of the angry poet who searched for the sun
in a pool of blood that stream down
from the chest of his dead son

I held her wrist like she is mine
like a gentle man holding a glass of fine wine
and walked under that noisy evening sky
while the wind whispered “ this is not a goodbye”

Wake up! wake up!
She shakes my body
and makes me laugh away my nightmares
my borken heart, she stitches sharing the thread
she has on her left chest

Yet sometimes we pretend like strangers
and tell each other “we are going no where”
and next moment we say “It was a joke”
and we smile in bytes showing our face like frogs

we fall in love knowing we can't fall in love with each other
manytimes i feel we can be two helpless protagonists of one of GC Tongbra's plays
we live like dancers, we dance so much when we dance

Chewing Pan she roamed in the streets of Shillong
carrying her stitched heart as heavy as jackfruit
when I called her, she said “you taste like kangsoi”
and she giggled and my heart as wet as Cherrapunji