National Poetry Writing Month, Day-3: First Love

First Love

the first girl who told me that I was in love with her
told me that she knew it
like the water knows the brim
on the verge of spilling out
a tear or two too many
that filled her empty glass
until she was convinced that she loves me a little too much

the first girl who told me that she loved me
came with yellow flowers and summer songs
she told me that she knew that people have to leave
but maybe if we hold a little tighter burn a little brighter
kiss a little slower and sink a little lower
we could make it work

the first girl who asked me what my favorite color was
told me that she knew her grandmother had cancer
and she had tried painting a few nights a little too starry
like the old painter who tried painting his gut with yellow paint and turpentine
I told her I love her a little too much
she told me that it was just enough

the first girl who told me that I am in love
told me that this time it was weird
because she knew it like the rats know the
hallways of a ship that has run cold before hitting the iceberg
that she held me like a baby holds a puzzle
I wished to be solved and all she could do was nibble with her teeth on a broken barren chest and I wished to be solved and she wished to be loved and we couldn’t make it work

the first girl who loved me told me that it was time
to love a little harder, talk a little lesser, date a little better
she told me like she knew how a lover knows a lover who has ran out of love
and still holds on a sinking ship, a broken brush, a baby’s litter
that love is all she could give
and maybe that, was never enough.

Peeyush Chauhan

I like milk, apples, and lots of free time in order to do nothing on purpose. I like the way words work, and how you can play around with them to create a pretentious bio.

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