National Poetry Writing Month, Day 24: Never Been In Love

My friend tells me
That she has never been in love
That she has kissed mouths and devoured bodies
But she can’t tear a page and say
That maybe on this day, I was in love.

My friend tells me
That she has never been in love
That she has unwrapped strawberry parcels
And cried for days together
But she doesn’t see why people build monuments for the dead

My friend tells me
That she has never been in love
But she has seen people pour down themselves in glasses and drink the grief away
She gets the drinking, but not the grief.

My friend tells me
That she has never been in love
But she adores friendships that bloom
Between strangers with no motives
Of playing each other, until they play their own.

My friend tells me
That she has never been in love
But this one time her friend drew wings on the wall and everbody thought they could fly
But about a life later, she killed herself and no body talks about her now
The wings are still there, and people still believe that they can fly.

My friend tells me
That the this one time her friend left the city
Looking for a roof away from his home
She couldn’t sleep for days
She didn’t ask him to stay
He didn’t ask her to leave

My friend tells me
That she has never been in love
So I tell her what’s the need to be
Maybe we can build monuments on friendships, and write poems about our friends
And maybe we can laugh all our days away,
in silly rocking chairs.

For what will you do with all this love you have in your lungs and the slightest paper cut leaves you bleeding in your heart.
And all the sunshine you have in your eyes and all the stardust you keep in your bag.

Why love just a lover and run dry for all the friends you have
Why put down friendships, for the sake of a brittle pact.

My friend tells me
That she’s never been in love
And I tell her,
maybe you never stopped.

Written by Peeyush Chauhan