I don’t know what love is; So when I fell in love With a boy, I became My mother. I gave him my all. Love became labour for me. I also cooked, cleaned, and Did all the laundry. Give sex when he wanted. And eventually my love withered. I learned the hard way That love doesn’t stay If I feel unseen. So when I caught him cheating, I didn’t scream; I didn’t beg; I kicked him out. I got drunk, and I Cried my heart out alone In my bedroom. I could not get out Of my bed for Months. Because I felt my love Just wasn’t enough.

I don’t know what love is; But when I look at my friends, Navigating through life, My heart fills with warmth. I could never handle them suffer, Or be in discomfort, Or struggle in any way. It took me years to figure out How to be present for them. And how sometimes Letting them figure things out On their own Is the kindest thing to do. Maybe love isn’t just About actions but also about Inaction; letting things go. But again, if I don’t reach out I get complete silence from Most of them till they need My help with something. Maybe love comes with Terms and Conditions attached About how useful are you To people, or worse; That they are not really friends In the first place.

I don’t know what love is See, I have been cruel to myself. I skip meals, I struggle making Boundaries, I give labour Till my body breaks. Maybe love comes at a cost. I chase the grand love Poets write about But I never see it in the world. I have seen men philosophise About love and fail to practice What they preach. I have seen women enslaved In the name of love. I have seen women begging To be Witnessed for the Labour they do for love. I have seen women Spend their whole lives Searching for someone to Just hold them lovingly. And I have also been all Of those women.
Maybe love is just fantasy of men Who discards the labour it takes To love somebody in their entirety. Maybe love is just work Noticing, Being Kind, And Picking up after each other. Maybe Love can’t exist alone; Maybe Love is a collective. I read in a book that the First sign of love was someone Who carried someone with a Broken leg and waited for them To heal. But now we need Self-help books and reels on Social Media to tell us How to fall in love with ourselves.

Maybe I don’t understand What love is yet. Maybe I’ll never know what Love is. But that is okay, I am gonna Seek it out anyway. And when I am old and frail and on my deathbed; Ask me once more about What Love is. Maybe I’ll have something Better to offer than this Lousy rant of a poem.

Have you ever been so hungry, That the food you hated so much Felt like the best thing in the world? It stopped making your stomach lurch.

Have you ever been so hungry, That it just made you nauseated? But you couldn’t really puke, And tore your throat instead!

Have you ever been so hungry, Neither coffee nor nicotine could douse it? You curse any and all gods, For giving you an appetite

Have you ever been so hungry, That your mouth got progressively bitter? From you bile; and all you could do Was to make your belt tighter.

Have you ever been so hungry, That you punched yourself in the gut? And then you’re still hungry but also in pain? Yeah, that move wasn’t smart.

Have you ever been so hungry, That you just went to sleep? Hoping not to wake up tomorrow Because this life? it doesn’t come cheap.

Have you ever been so hungry, That you traded your body for a meal? It’s not a real choice, if that’s the only option! IDK about others, but this is what i feel.

Have you ever been so hungry, That you had to crawl back and beg To your abusers? undoing every progress; And that knocked you down another peg?

What do you know of starvation? Do you even know how to cook? Who are you to preach about shit, When all your dialogues come from a book?

You call me brave, powerful even, But also an uncouth ticking time bomb. I may not have the means as you, But you’ll never know where I’m coming from!

then you start researching about wellness centres and destination travel, and eventually you come across me and something clicks. there has been at least someone in your life who have mentioned me to you, and you decide to come over.

you love me. you get to explore my different parts with a slowness you never knew could be possible. you roam around my main street, browsing books in the library or trinkets in the commercial district. you can watch movies in the cinema hall or watch plays in the theatre across. there is grass here and that is greener here. you can’t believe what you are seeing while exploring many of my secrets in sultry afternoon you have whispered in my ears how you are never going to leave me, how you are moving back here so you can be with me forever. stay here, take up work here. or maybe you just wanna plough me all day in your small patch. you think i’m fertile and you can grow gold. but all of those are talks. maybe bravado of a hopeful soul who just found out living like this was a possibility? i have freed you and you haven’t realised what this freedom entailed yet? in a way i think that is my fault. i have schools and colleges, but you came here to heal, not get educated. but i am bad at communication anyway, kids from my town often choose other colleges anyway. i doubt you’d like them either.

eventually you do get a grasp of things. collect yourself. sometimes it takes three months, sometimes three years. but eventually you leave. go back to the same city or to a different one. healed and ready to face the world. you promise me that you’ll come back and that you have to leave because the world is different and i won’t understand, how could i? i am already here and people here don’t wanna put up with me. i have become the mistress you won’t talk about to others. maybe your friends are now relieved that you don’t blast the daily chat about how moving to this town will solve all their life problems.

maybe you will come back from time to time, between your other affairs. and you know i’ll be here waiting for you. i can’t move on silly, i’m a town.