"Goldfish do it in the privacy of their bowls", Ella croons,
'Falling in love' seems to be the tune
She swooned lovesick
Moping another woe of having been parted.
Don't hurry with your condolences,
Love departed, but hardly unrequited.
So they live their lives,
Separated by timezones,
And degrees of passion felt
Conjoined in the fact that they are
Souls redeemed, soulmates found,
Enough to make the most jaded, cruelest
To waver, and melt.
Because, other than a minor inconvenience,
Of timed phone calls,
And planned online trysts,
All seemed rosy.
Hues of youth's indiscretions.
And determined promises.
Pity though that they remain,
A fragment of imagination.
Am much of a cynic to be so naive,
To have not dawned upon the realisation,
Love so perfect,
Without its own travails,
Is no love at all.