My arms
This space is yours, please claim it.
This circle bounded by my arms,
It's empty, waiting long for mass.
I won't break the circle
Or rest it on another's shoulders.
But the pain.... for how long?
It's true, there are many circles.
One for thick, wavy hair, a second for wide, full lips.
Another for a bright mind, or the lean smooth torso
Full of promises that only touch can deliver.
Or eyes like a deep well of dark still water
Whispering "Can you, will you ......jump?''
But before you accuse me of disloyalty,
That my fluid arms are faithless,
Remember this, please.
Memories are my oxygen.
Yes, I breathe,
Inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, unwillingly.
But for all that, one fact is true, my love.
All my spaces have one thing in common.
They're empty.
Sanjib Basu 