Poem: On love and phlegm

She thanks the stars
And the Gods of phlegm.

Some vows are taken,
More seriously than others.

So in sickness, his love,
flows and pours.
As if from the depths
of a bottomless box of tissue.

She is sure then,
that love smells like Vicks,
and is dispensed,
In doses, like antibiotics.

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6 Responses to Poem: On love and phlegm

  1. sheetal says:

    wow! poem is really lovable,I liked it.


  2. renu says:

    sooo sooo nice, neha! love your blog…:)


  3. geeteshri says:

    Get well soon ..:)


  4. Anil says:

    Very succint. Reminds me of an incident at the hostel where I stayed.

    In between administering antibiotics to the guy suffering from sickness and on the bed, the girl used to scour the grounds for wildflowers to take to the guy.

    She did this each morning, unfailing. Somehow seeing this used to make the world seem that much more gentler, and nicer 🙂


  5. Shefaly says:

    And in a cold, which is viral, (love is also equally) useless, just like antibiotics. Hot and sour soup on the other hand works like magic 😉


  6. PA says:

    reminded me of someone… hope she finds love in healthful things too!

    long time reader, first time commenter.


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