I look for the words that I once wrote to describe you,
Have they dried away just like our love?
Or have they interspersed in our fragmented lives?
Our love isn't barren, it is unsettled by the surroundings,
Soak in the feelings of a passionate kiss,
The untidy bed is a testimony to our passionate love,
Our love isn't barren, it is irked by the uneasiness,
Soak in the mighty breeze that ruffles your hair,
Your unkempt look is a testimony to our passionate love,
You are indomitable, you are fearless,
yet you presume our love as dead and buried,
When I can envisage the road we have often taken,
Sometimes whole-heartedly, sometimes half-heartedly,
The road less taken is the road that leads to fear,
Be what you are, what your soul is, what your mind is,
If your mind refuses to budge, then admit it,
Our love is barren, blind to the darkness around,
oblivious of the passionate love,
Envious of the unkempt look,
suspicious of the untidy bed,
Our love is barren enough,
unable to intersperse in our fragmented lives.