I wanted; wanted
To take away all our pain,
To free you from your aches,
To envelope you in my embrace,
To make you forget all that can’t be erased.
I wanted; wanted
To kiss all your tears,
To chase away all your fears,
To taste all your wounds,
To chaperone you to the tombs.
I wanted; wanted
To cure you of your grief,
To surcease all your strife,
To heal your body, your soul,
To be your cure, an antidote.
I wanted; wanted
To give you all my happiness,
To bestow you only with blissfulness,
To free you of the enchains,
To liberate you, of all the restrains.
And in doing so,
I lost my exulted ecstasy,
My humorous joviality,
My peace, my calm,
My tranquility, the only charm.
And in doing so,
I reached someplace called inferno,
Burning, writhing, for how long I don’t know.
In healing you, I lost myself,
My body, my soul,
And there was left, no antidote.
*
Sometimes, I wonder though, if at all this is possible. You always wanted everything to fall in place for the other person, you always wanted peace and serenity for them, but in trying to do everything for them, can you really lose yourself? In doing something good for others can you really hurt yourself? Can you really torture and enchain yourself, so, so badly that you fear your presence? Can you really fall to some place so dark?
Moushmi Radhanpara 
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