iii. tasting jealousy in her throat

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by teaniksa

by teaniksa

lowercase intended.

dedicated to everyone who has felt jealousy. if it's a sin, you have paved the way to hell.
soothe its bitterness through poetry.

Her Mīmāṃsā of

"tasting jealousy in her throat"

you,

a subdued woman's love. you make me desiderate for the sweet lagniappe you are. your proximity convoys peace, and i desire it forever. wherewithal i know nothing of, but your coming unraveled the cataclysmic jumbled strings in my mind. for the golden warps you hold in your eyes and the dark pink your lips are, i am a craver.

you,

my revered cynosure. you resemble the tranquility of the rain. i have desultorily fallen for the demured denouement you are. i wish this fleeting fondness is not fugacious. this, between us, is incipient and i pray it is not for your leisure. my love for you is chaste. broken and woebegone i was, and you made me ebullient again.

you,

are ethereal, mi amour. unknowingly you became the gossamer holding onto the vitiated pieces of my heart. when i was the most hopeless, you came as a scintilla. my happiness, which you gifted me, i wish is not effervescent. it may seem untowards, i am afraid is vestigial, you make the dead flowers of my existence redolent.

you,

an abyssopelagic crystal. you are sin and virtue mixed; your silhouette may invite limerence. when you encroached upon my demesne, i let your comely, benign yet firm demeanor conflate with the flawed view of my own. maybe i was selfish in my misery, i sought warmth. for the sun you were, my heart was going to be burnt. diaphanous it looks, and by dint of fate, which hates me, it must end a dalliance. but a dalliance, it is not on my part.

you,

a fetching elixir. your words act emollient on me; even a elision of your husked voice makes me yours. when it turns evocative, i feel amorous, for you. prideful i am; yet, it seems, i have given myself as early as your eyes bore into mine. accept me yours. only do not ever, as you must not, disregard my presence in your life. flawed, with craters that are dug deeper, i am willing to be your moon. for i have found, you love the moon.

you,

my panoply panacea. you are honest and i admire you. still, for a while even, my love, do not ever be mellifluous. i have known dissemble, it's haunting. a fool, one feels to be. even if it's ephemeral yet the penumbra of lies break hearts. if you wonder what it's plethora could do? kill. i do not wish to die a living death, yet again.

you,

my lover. you cause me pain. even if erstwhile, the sussorous mention of a woman's name, which i am not, in a way of admiration and affections of the heart, burns me. from your mouth, sin tastes sweet. yet the sweetest words, my love, sound poison when they hint at another woman. when you talk of her, or any, it feels vicious. i know there is nothing surreptitious; this, i hope. you love me you say, i try to believe. trust is quintessential in love, i acknowledge. but my moiety, what when i doubt myself.

you,

my esteemed favourite. as i lilt to the ineffable imbrication of hurt and love imbued in my heart, as are it's imbroglios imprinted in my mind, i think of you, always. for the propinquity towards you, i am willing to turn lithe and lissome. incendiary to me as it is my beloved, but if you desire someone else, do i become her? maybe, as long as it's fruitful, even if it's pyrrhic. except that only means you do not love me for who i am.

you,

my forever beloved. you know i am frantic, sick of the fears of my mind, haunted by past that pervade issues of trust. you are becoming and i may be beautiful. it is no passing fancy, i want you. and slightest of your desires for else, burns my heart, as forbearance gives way. you know this and yet you cause me lassitude. from the tragic diffident doubts my mind feeds me, bitter flames (of jealousy) you intentionally ignite in me. you know not, how much i love you.

jealousy,

it's venomous; a result of insecurities. it is bitter and feels sour; pure sanguinolency. even when mislead and spurious, it cuts deep and scars worthless. i love you and you love me; this is eternal. jealousy in love is a surreal nemesis; vicious even. it burns one's own heart. it is childish, innocent and sinful. it's madness!! but then love, which is pious, is madness too.

thankyou for reading. do not forget to let me know your views:) love.