from my pen let these words flow flow flow in river lake stream ocean sky. I am Unlovable I am an Object I am Not Me that is my life one two three four five six seven eight nineteen years of object of Look at that Pretty Boy of He is Not True of You Arjun Are Not Arjun it was hate hate hate over over over but my pen does not know only hate now my pen knows love my eyes know bright my skin knows warmth my heart knows love why is love like this? Why is love twisting and turning and wishing and wishing and wishing they loved you back? Why does my pen know love, but not loved? when will I know if I am loved in return? ——— my love is not sun my love is a river my love, whom I love with my being, my love is calm cool strong reliable creative refreshing … my love is loving but is my love loving to me? … from my pen let these words flow flow flow in river lake stream let these words flow in love … -from the notebooks of Arjun Chakravarti [scrapped poem he did not think was good enough because it was not his normal style]
