Love PoemsPoetry

The Embarrassment and the Rain

The embarrassment of first kiss
under the influence of Shakespeare’s summer
perched for a lucid and languid stream line of rain.
How I wish my first rain would definitely
be smothered with the lips smashing
against a beautiful girl,
but it went opposite as raindrops betrayed
and summer benevolently approached.
I had met the girl in a rainy day
carrying an umbrella, unfolding her harnessed beauty
in a red top and skinny jeans that surpassed
the charm of crystal droplets of rain,
and she flaunted her sleek body.
Embarrassed me, felt the rush of adrenaline,
pinching my skin to wake up
from the massacre of sweet sixteen,
blushed like a baby strawberry
and completely blank about
the future fragility of something
everyone called love cherishingly.
Embarrassment has the numerous hashtag of moments;
I procrastinate to go back when
I luckily reached to her hands, decreased
the distance from an unknown to a very known.
I proceeded to the beautiful tufts of hair,
caressing her waist with the warmth of my fingers,
my heart poured honey to my veins
sucking from her lips
and suddenly it rained,
drenched hearts, soaked under the shield
of a locked house and we stood completely embarrassed.
Embarrassed in the sweetness of love,
the indolence of rain, and the paranoia of stealing moments.
The perfect rain kiss, it sat
with its complete entity in my mind
until and unless she took me blindfolded
beside the edge of a canal, called ‘loneliness’
and burnt me in the blaze of ‘pain’,
my burnt ashes didn’t even bid adieu to her face
as she tied the black piece of cloth to my eyes;
and again an utmost moment of heartbreak,
desolation and crushed embarrassment.
The moment of her departure
also witnessed a caricature of stormy rain,
both from nature and my eyes
as nature couldn’t anymore hold the treachery
and I couldn’t live in the tyranny of repentance.
Proceeding further one after another
from the rotten smell of petrichor
to wicked look of the monsoon rainbow
that’s flawless in showing hoax tints of 7 colours,
I discovered an entirely insipid monsoon
full of bogus embarrassment in loss only.
I sit to measure how much fraudulent preyed me
as she came as a large box of surprise,
and the box I kept on dismantling
in front of my mates one by one,
tearing cellophanes in a curiosity to know the depth
and then a matchbox full of poison came out,
a moment of thunder laughs caught in my utter embarrassment again.
I kept on wailing, engulfing my face
in between my knees in an empty classroom
where I saw God bestowed me the devastating rain
to appease my rage, my tongue, my throat
and my lips at last that couldn’t forget the taste of her warm lips.
My entire life shaping into a world of embarrassment
rectifying me from the allegations of rain.
Sigh, I heave a sigh of relief,
keeping my feet to the ground of earth
and escaping my love in supreme belief.

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