My heart woke me up
In the dead of the night
Crying for help

As I was about to ask
What I can do to make
Things better for him, the

brain intervened and said, “Switch off the damned phone and go — the hell — to sleep.”

When people say that
Love is blind
I find the statement errant
You can see that it is
Simply not true
On further assessment

Blind is actually a person with severe visual impairment

In a room full of art
In a museum full of artefacts
I’d have my eyes on you
And only you

Because you’d be either walking around with your fingers in your nose or stumbling over and breaking something priceless or both

In a schedule packed
With chaos and rush
Sharing a meal with you
Is perhaps the most
Peaceful part of my day

Especially when you are hooked to your phone and I am to mine

Beautiful, radiant and bright
You glow, golden and white
Twinkling like the stars in sight
You love with a lustrous might

Surrounded by your constant light
It’s getting hard to sleep at night

When I first met you
I had no idea that
You would bring so much
Euphony into my life

Every word you speak
Every syllable you utter
Is music to my ears

Jarring, dragging and ear-shattering

If you need a shoulder to cry
I am here

If you need a mouth to converse
I am here

If you need an ear to listen
I am here

If you need an arm to hold
I am here

If you need some space
Well um then I am not here

You have a big heart
For a reason

Inflated by the pressure
Of trying to contain
An overweight lover within

God says, “Once you turn into an adult, you will have approximately twenty-four hours to live. Is that clear?”

Mayfly nods.

“That’s not a lot of time. So you better be quick about finding a mate. Clear?”

Mayfly nods.

“Like all other creatures, you also need to survive being eaten by other creatures. Or by deadly natural circumstances. Clear?”

Mayfly nods.

“If you fail to reproduce within this short span of time your species will go extinct. Clear?”

Mayfly nods again.

“Well, don’t just stand there nodding your head at everything. Don’t you have a question for me?”

Mayfly picks up a quill and scribbles on a dry leaf

NO MOUTH