Its Love too, isn’t it?

You are banging the door again,

Its 1am at night.

Trembling,

I reach for the lock.

Contemplating,

Whether I should be quiet,

Maybe you will just go away this time.

Out of habit,

Like a reflex_

I do open the door for you.

Standing there,

In rage, hair disheveled.

You are wearing your shoes,

On the wrong foot.

I have this intense urge,

To bend down,

and correct it for you.

Such a baseless wish.

In a second.

I am in your arms,

You are saying something,

Screaming.

Making my hair as disheveled as yours.

I wonder what wrong I did this time.

Woke up early.

Cleaned the house.

Even made your favorite dinner.

Its Valentines day after all.

You are not happy though.

I step on the glass you broke,

I try not to whimper,

As It makes you more angry.

This time, you use your belt.

You calm down.

After a while.

I pick up the broken pieces.

Tell you to come and eat.

After a beat or two,

You look at me.

With guilt or affection,

Its still a mystery to me.

You bring the first aid box,

Tend to my wounds.

Say you are sorry.

You say you love me.

So gentle.

So sweet.

I smile.

Always so sweet in the end.

I forgive him.

We eat together.

And go to bed.

Him sound asleep.

My eyes wide open.

Its love too,

Isn’t it?