Don’t I have the right to ask you where you’ve been?
Published in
1 min readMar 15, 2016
Cruel Krishna,
Don’t taunt me with that cheeky smile;
I know you’ve been away.
Your heavy-lidded eyes droop,
like the boughs of the peepal tree,
Your skin is flushed, and your hair undone.
Don’t I have the right to ask you where you’ve been?
Where is the feather you tickle
me with, while I lie lost in your arms?
A sickening scent clings to your skin,
your arms are dotted with crescents.
Your eyes are alight with excitement,
but not because you’re finally home.
Don’t I have the right to ask you where you’ve been?
I know you aren’t mine;
you can never be mine.
But why does my heart yearn to say that you are?
The sweet music of your flute haunts me,
it fills me with sorrow.
While it announces your arrival,
It is your departure that it confirms.
