It was a Thursday Night

Is this the show?

Is this that I want to make?

This charade of reality

What is the line between true and make believe love

Sometimes I really do

Sometimes I doubt, mostly I don’t

I console myself that this happens

To all and sundry, all neetas and phadnis

This self absorbing, cynical, paranoia

Of being stuck in a relation with another Akshayee or Rahul

The need to trust and love coz I truly do

Ad not coz I want to

Believe or make believe

It was a Thursday Night, cool and sensuous

Yet, a nagging feel lasted your throat

Summer and March, yet not so cool

When she called, I knew it was to itch

Poison ivy, you know the right bad places

Does time make you so much a stranger?

Again I console myself, it’s only a Thursday thrush

You will be cool tomorrow, all will be ok

I dwell too much on depressions

What’s with the fake show,

Sometimes I wonder if alls well with her

Is she forced, or is it her free will

Sad both ways, like the autumn buds

That frizzles and frays in summer heats

Years later, after the dance is over

She will know, that she danced so stiff

That it broke her neck

And the songs gone all dry and sundry

Someone might carve in books

Never be like the lucys and the mays

Never betray a trust, worse a faith, even more a love