And My Chocolate Melts

Red chocolate, Black Chocolate, Green, Brown and Blue;

Which one will go to which mouth none has a clue,

With what aspirations were they made although they never knew;

Have to go inside one’s mouth trying to tear the heart through.

Juicy sugarcane, crunchy coconut, mango, apple, strawberry, and Cocoa seeds;

Jackfruit, vanilla and a thousand others keep punching for the taste it bids,

The olds eat; the middles eat, of course the young and the kids;

Sharing love, taking kisses it gives the satisfaction it heeds.

Where ever, when ever I eat one I get a moment of happiness;

It overwhelms me sometimes with its taste and juiciness,

If treated by myself it is not single ounce perfection less;

But when gifted by others with love I can’t measure its sweetness.

Chocolates do say LOVE believe it or not;

Accept it with open palm before somebody is hurt,

Kiss it, feel it, eat it and enjoy the flavor; but;

Don’t forget to see the held emotions before you glut.

I buy chocolates everyday, every time & when ever I have a penny;

I eat chocolates everyday, every time without caring how many,

People ask seeing my chew “Do you have any?”

I deny them sometimes even if they want however tiny.

I like giving chocolates whenever I am happy;

Saddened a lot I get when some faces look creepy,

Sometimes I want to give chocolates when I want to be snappy;

Pained a lot I get when the smile I wished is just scrappy.

Thousands of times I have tried to gift many a chocolate;

Thousands of times I have failed; I calm myself cursing my fate,

I try once more and then once more and frustrate myself I let;

Awkward it gets when emotions amplify and myself I hate.

My emotions blow my conscience, with questions that never rhyme;

The people I want to give the chocolate – my love for them grows with time,

Without action, without justice I keep expecting making my mind slime;

A piece of my heart is with the chocolate; what resemblance does it hold I can’t define.

Some thirty inches from my nose; the frontier of my personality goes;

You know you can’t beware of it; neither had I spit nor my gun ever blows,*

How can I resist myself, what is in my mind? If God doesn’t exist then who knows?

What did I miss, what did I lose? Can you help me in finding my repose?

Days go, months go, and I dream of skinning my chest’s pelts;

I iterate myself around and around with all the strings and the belts,

What if remained aloof am I? What if in people’s heart love for me never sets?

I remain the loser and time flies; I try to pretend And Chocolate of My Love Melts.

* W.H Auden’s writing on Personality and Ego

Some thirty inches from my nose
The frontier of my Person goes...
Beware of rudely crossing it:
I have no gun, but I can spit.