One Meal a Day

 

This is not a poem, really

not a ballad either,

it’s just a one time thing.

 

My love, it’s a thing,

our thing,

a one time thing.

My love, it’s a relationship,

our relationship,

a one time a day relationship,

so paradoxical

like the hopeful gleam of the sun and sully gloom of the moon,

so oxymoronic

like visible darkness, darkness visible,

I’m so attached to you,

yet,

so detached from you.

 

Our thing, my love,

is like any other teenage thing, my love

you tempt me,

and I lust

you are inconsistent,

and I persist

you are unpredictable,

and I hope

you break up with me on some days,

and I endure.

it’s like any other teenage thing, where you will always only want me, but I will always need you.

 

Our thing, my love

is more than a teenage thing, my love

it’s divine.

I am to you

what Lucifer was to god,

but I’m the fallen angel now.

and your polyamorous instincts

have given me many companions.

together,

we will build our Pandemonium.

Because we don’t want a thing anymore,

we don’t deserve JUST ‘a thing’ anymore.

 

And we will fight with you, my love

with your Son,

your angels,

and especially your Creation,

your beloved Man.

and we will invert the divine order, my love

for we will render your man impotent,

and emerge victorious

and make a heaven out of hell.

 

Tansheet Hasan

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