An Elegy of a Paramour

Dear love, you owe this night to me,

I am the lady you must be with,

Dine my sight; relax that eye-spree,

Comfort my soul, don't mention a kith.

When the food is over, curl-up those fingers round,

Don’t stand! I will be with the cloth,

Look those eyes, where-in I am lost and you are found,

I’ll then jump up to you like a moth.

Take me up-stairs, slow but sure,

Listen to my voice with hairs on your face,

Rest me in a place of just-us and so un-pure,

And then tell me a tale of that two-knotted lace.

I swear not to leave you now or ever,

It was me and will-be me on that only boat,

Please do swear my name dear at-least for-ever,

I’ll hold you like your skin coat.

But that song un-turned with a sight,

That old fagged lady turned up my hubby’s bed,

A look with which I frightened her that night,

Seeing that she tried stabbing but I did stab her red.

He moaned and I joyed and screamed,

He then slapped me and that broke my rhyme,

I put that dagger cutting his heart and thus he bleed,

I drank it all making ‘my love’ only mine,

Alas! I thought, It was just ‘he’ and me nearby,

And I believed him that he said “I am all your”

But I stabbed that traitor again, the moment I opened one eye,

And he poured down from inside me saying “I was never really yours o' my Paramour”

(C) Raj Jaipal