Poem: Omnia Vincit Amor

stolen moments in

torch-lit nights

feverish touches

amidst erratic breaths

locked glances
setting free wordless secrets

you, me:

curled up

beneath blankets of lies,

my fingertips

dancing on your spine

and
they call this lust!

but what do they know of

adrenaline,

of heat,

of my heart beating

in tandem with yours?

what do they know of

impulse,

of fervour,

of boiling blood

purging my soul of fear?

and

what do they know of

forbidden kisses

always

tasting sweeter?

---

To quote one of my cousins, "Don't get any ideas, people!"

I swear, if one more grown-up remarks snidely, "You're still reading YA and fantasy? Shouldn't you be moving on to serious stuff?" I'm going to murder them. (More on that later....)

Anyway, this poem is about my rebellion against my parents' diktat that, for every "childish book with magical claptrap" that I read, I should also read one philosophical/religious/whatever-is-deemed-serious-by-adults book. Only then would I be allowed to buy the next book of my choice.

Ha. Fat chance. I promptly enlisted the help of my friends and got them to order whichever title I wanted from various online portals, which they handed over to me at school. A Snape-worthy operation, if I say so myself.

Not at all sorry for this irreverent affair with books, however. Because it's with them that I become myself. With them, I can sob and scream and laugh and curse without inhibitions. With them, I'm brave. I'm happy. I'm at peace. I'm in love.

And it's said that "omnia vincit amor." Love conquers all.