I was in love with
A picture
The downward tilted head
The intense look
The style and
The attitude
I was the Juliet
I was Laila
I was, also, Desdemona
But
He was neither Romeo
Nor Majnu
Not even Othello
I craved pined
For his love and care
Sometimes even cried,
But asked him never
Thus held on
To my pride
One day,
By chance
Met him in person
Caught my breath
And felt
It was treason
He was not ,
In the least,
Like his image,
That,
With me was rage
This stranger
Made me wince
No way he could be
My prince
That was transition
From illusion
To reality
Thanks to
My coyness
And my vanity
~Sudha Dixit
Bangalore, India