Love Is Never Democratic. Poem by Hardik Vaidya

I am running out.
I am tired and about to stop and doubt.
I am devastated by the slap of your soft sound.
I am boiling away to cleanse my last reaming doubts.
I am me, your only wild fire of blasphemy.
The only forest who chose to be alight,
In delight,
For your night,
For your eternal day light.
You do not want my torch,
You did not want me to burn,
You did not want me to engulf the fire of my substance,
But you are not the only one,
I too am.
I too have a right.
On your divine and blessed infinite nights.