Fickle Romances

You laugh at the random scribbles
I have made in the backside of my notebook
Not sarcastically or mockingly -
But you laugh genuinely.
And when I look at you
With playful annoyance,
You hold me in your arms and kiss my neck.
I just love how you see things, you say.
And I believe you, for that is what I do.

The next time we fought,
You called me a feminist
And mocked me with nasty words.
You told me I was not normal
And that everything I write, echoes my insecurity.
You will not be tied down by my madness, you said.

In the dim lit room,
When we lay under the sheets
You looked at me -
A smile hidden behind tears
And a love, hidden behind lust.
You traced my tattoo
with your fingers,
Kissed me on my stomach,
And told me just how glad you were
To be there -
At that time, in that moment.
And I believe you, for your words are all that I want to hear.

Do you believe me now, you ask
Pointing at the ring you put on my finger
I smile, for I don't really know the answer.
And you take my hand in yours
And tell me that I will also learn
To believe, to love. I will also learn
All that, again.

But you are also afraid, it seems.
For I drink (so many drunken nights we have memories of!)
And I smoke
And I shamelessly call myself a writer
In front of everyone.
I don't know to behave, it seems.
Reckless, immature
A femisnist!
How will I ever love your mother
When I speak back to my own mother?
How will I ever adjust
To your normal ways of life?

You are afraid, it seems.
For I have changed.
Oh! Wait. Or is it because I did not change
Inspite of the ring?
I forget.

But this is what we chose - this fickle romance.
And you'll never understand what it is
To love like I do
You are the still water, I am the wind
And how fickle, can their romances be!