The oldest story in the world#onlyinIndworld#onlyinIndia

Twenty five,tall, dark and handsome
Parents nod:the oldest story in the world.
"He is reserved" ,they say.
That euphoric rush,multiple life epiphanies
Of singing all the stars we could not see in a city like ours
Fake pleasantries,the rituals and the ring,
Only the rings are circular;marking infinity
Circles seldom end,my reflection blushed:naive
We held hands,me ,my fantasies
Truths encaged within caged of your ribs
Raging desperately in your pearl white skull
Etching your apparent sins ,your many shades of slate and grey
From a lifeled ashtray.
Cavalcade of desire,cascading;an avalanche
In the eyes of your hurricane,longing to be us
Virulent rush of skin on skin,embracing the darkest light
At one ray of pitch black,you moaned,a name.
A spring from your past delusion
Brewing a redolent lost kiss,breaking your insides
I cringed;yet another old story.
Your sadness looms:piles of refusals
A crumbling rose in the hands of sombreness
Melancholy, unearthing all-too-familiar regrets
My ring shone;a humour darker than your secrets.
Only leaky faucets watched me writhe
When your flames failed to tempt me.
Our shadows collide,I smirk from a feet away.
Multiple life epiphanies; euphemism
Grace of feelings I wish you fought for funeral of silence
A silence,that pained and bled my eardrums
A silence,too loud we have traded for sleep.
Your feeble soul,imposter
The cutting tongue,a skillful tool;knife will cut with the same precision
With gangs of spirits,your w***e in the dark
You bruise more than hearts.
Ounces of anger numbed me down
While your other facades chuckled.
The world behind your unfocused gaze,hoards of blewn dandelions behind mine
Miles away on the same mattress.
Sarcophagus of our lost pieces.
The ring,with radiance lost now,burdened too heavy
Like the bottom of my trunk ,where you sowed your seeds.
And it's grip,carelessly cold.
Circles seldom end;my reflection sighed;agony desensitized.
Stoicism and women,
Weaving strings you never mean to hold.
Fifty two,tall,dark,grey and old
Still handsome
You nod at them;the oldest story in the world.
"Our daughter is reserved"