In Love With The Past (In Love with My Past Virginity)

wedding

NOTE

My parents just asked me today in the morning, after I read my latest poem to them, why I keep on writing about the same topic – virginity.

Well, it’s b’cos I was a pledged virgin, who never believed in pre-marital sex and I faced enough opposition and discrimination b’cos of my belief. For example, the woman (lawyer) who dumped me after finding out that pre-marital sex was off the table, or the Masters possessing Kandy girl who didn’t want to see me after learning from an e-mail/blog poem I was a virgin, or the school friends who wanted to learn whether I was a virgin or not at Whitehorse pub, at Nawam Mawatha (Don’t worry I’m not angry with you although I don’t know why you had to question me so intensely)…………….anyway, virginity is a choice, just as the many other choices on the table of any adult. Its an adult right.

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Through the navel of an hourglass
I wish for the sand to defy gravity, to be the man,
– AND NOT THE WOMAN LIKE SOCIETY EXPECTS –
A pledged virgin amidst his 30s.
The past comes through like a rainbow
That ushers in so much color, a kaleidoscope,
Refraction in all its mesmerizing glory
And mirrors reminding me that my past
Is what held me together, shatter-proofing me
To the bludgeoning hailstorms of mislaid opinions.

Society expects man to be warm blooded
To be wild as his gender dictates, a fox among the sheets
Getting it all from the willing lass, a wild doe
Who will bathe you with her spots
And swallow you like a twig.
And all you remember are the castles;
Falling in love, falling to all the nonsensicality
The stupidity of buying life-sized stuffed animals,
Memorabilia with all the cheesy messages
Making a scrap book of cinema tickets
And bills paid at plush restaurants
Watching Pride and Prejudice a million times
Making Darcy’s awkwardness your own
Gift to a lass, who will promise to climb on you
On your wedding night, to make you a trampoline
To make love, a backyard game
Of percussion, pistons and gravity-defying stunts.

And virginity, is a pledge, of not wanting
To make love without a coupon
A chit that will read “an eternity to journey”
And you live with all the expectations; the times
You watch porn and you see your wife
In all the naughty baby dolls and in all the mis-anatomical
Positions bedroom gymnastics will usher
To the virgin heart and that pledge
Of looking through the periscope, perhaps even the telescope
And wanting one woman, to be your everything,
Your corkscrew, your trampoline
Your drum head; where your dream end
And the drawbridge closes to one lustful castle.

And I was a virgin for 38 years
A lifetime of being a seeker, the pearl hunter
The diver who looked through a million oysters
To find one so unlike others
A woman who was shier than a debutante
Loving more than a milking breast, as caring
As a mother singing a lullaby, as wild as
A magnitude 17 hurricane.
(A WOMAN WHO SAW WHAT A WHOLE GENDER COULD NOT)
That the boy in me, was a dreamer
Of all things that love could conquer
The wildflower in the forest
Who will wait for the straying soul
Lost in the wildnerness.

And through the myopia of loneliness
And the anxiety that boiled inside
I found a treasure inside a C-cup chest
A love that could carve even on rock
The calligraphy of her own hieroglyphs
That only I know. A love that the sky cannot
Sketch in all her boundlessness;
A love the ocean cannot manifest
In all her turbulence;
A love that closes my eyes
Every time I hold her close; Albino globes
That gives me all I ever dreamed of;
An incurable blindness magnifying a sense
That trembles when near
And pines when far.