To my Ophelic Lover

To all those kind souls whom I have loved and lived or left
Please come back, stay in my dreams; I have this tryst with pain
I am seeing that same face again, my room is pungent with heat
Waves which dance from walls to walls and a clock which smiles at me
I heard one pan-flute moan, some childhood pining strains
I woke up and searched for the words of the song and washed my eyelids in rain.

I dreamt you were writhing and unloading a freight of feelings, you were in fever
I dreamt that your head is shaved, afflicted with rotting desire
I dreamt my stupor, woke up and lived it, my muteness melting in tears
I might turn madcap, I dreamt of a drowning lass in beads and flowers
I dreamt of a man, bereft of his manhood and me-ness, groveling in quicksand
He has abandoned his body, but in his ribs and shrunk limbs, love lingers and remains

The ladies once turned into trees, all your flesh-skins melting to one
I’m haunted: one face remains; I am running like a hunted in the run
Shedding all trappings I have yielded to, gaining all things that unmakes a man
I’m searching all words that will end this tryst and a tale that a scream began
I dreamt of melting and turning into you: my Ophelic lover wanton
I’m writing nine and the same poem, I’m afraid I’ll turn into one.

Picture Courtesy: ~Chiaroscura~ featuring Kristina’s self-portraits; poem inspired by the picture, Lou’s poem, a bad dream (if not a nightmare) and a particular phrase by Leonard Cohen.