Punctuation for Lovers

2024-06-22

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"He made love to me, smooth as a colon, and when he went down on me my body waved like a tilde." Secrecy is an aphrodisiac. As powerful as pursuit, it is often mistaken for ardour. It is by and of itself an indulgence. Its translation into a stronger emotion, into love, is a different genre of effort. Chekhov once memorably said “There’s a proper order for a woman to become a man’s friend. First she’s an acquaintance, then she’s a lover, and finally sh...

"He made love to me,

smooth as a colon,

and when he went down on me

my body waved like a tilde."

Secrecy is an aphrodisiac. As powerful as pursuit, it is often mistaken for ardour. It is by and of itself an indulgence. Its translation into a stronger emotion, into love, is a different genre of effort. Chekhov once memorably said “There’s a proper order for a woman to become a man’s friend. First she’s an acquaintance, then she’s a lover, and finally she becomes a good friend.”

Love then is a long distance run, and friendship a journey of a lifetime.

Far beyond the satisfaction of an ego to ‘get’ someone, is recognition and acceptance. Of giving the time to know someone so thoroughly that the things we fall in love with mesh seamlessly with what we don’t. Irritations become quirks become things we adore. Time spent together is finding meaning in life. And hiatuses are then filled with remembrance which then act as bridges. Till the next time.

My best friends never complain about not being in touch. If they do, they are still lovers and have not transcended to friendship, which in the holy trinity of relationships, is the highest form of coexistence. (☺️)

As I walk through the hundreds of relationships I have formed - online, physical, tangential, official, family - I have continually learnt how it is often our closest relations who suck the marrow out of the marginal happiness we exist within. And sometimes it is mere strangers who elevate us with their attention or life stories. I survive by being in a zen state. As a Buddhist sutra succinctly advises - “Sab anitya hai”. Everything passes.

Indeed.

If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems which talk of how lovers tie themselves into knots -