Up(?) the Ladder of Love

                       I
An outward appeal, it sprouts as,

To get a closer look,

To see and feel superficial skin,

An attraction to a skin-made face,
To curves on the body,
Approved by a curve on that same face,
It grows on as an urge to own,

To possess beauty that one can never have,

Ripening to delicious fruit,

When one gives oneself,

In the attempt to conquer,

Holding a divine status,

Whether secured or not,

Bringing tears and admiration,

Even from those unrelated,

Still it appears trivial to the cold eye,

And yet, when unachieved,
It generates poetry of great depth,

Surprising, how twists on the gross body,
Let you twist the cloth of language,
Producing beautiful ribbons of poetry.

                      II
A little intimacy,

Melts the outward form,

Not just the fancy for it,

Allure and lust are wiped out,

And merely the soul is seen,

Through the same eyes but not,
For heart peeps through eyeholes, not hormones,

Falling in love is a backward run,

Upon the line of maturity,
But being in it is a run forward again,

I wonder if it's worth all the effort,
But before I think further,

And attempt to conclude my thought,

I slip, headfirst, into that pit,
That holds millions,
But convinces you,

That you're alone in it.

Written at 12:16pm on 3.1.2016 at C504, H13, IIT Bombay

Changes made up to 12:47pm.