Painting: 'The Secretary' by George Condo
She is quiet, calm and beautiful,
Her nose is sharp and lips are full.
When I look at her deer shaped eyes and curvy smile,
It makes me anxious and my heart stops for a while.
We meet regularly but she never look into my eyes,
She addresses me as 'Sir' for which my heart cries.
My office tags her as a 'Receptionist',
Which makes me her 'Boss'.
It widens the gulf between us which I find to be filthy and gross.
Sometimes I try to approach her,
With a firm belief that love should be blind.
But she refuses,
I think that the artificial hierarchy and the pseudo sense of inferiority is deeply rooted in her mind.
Sometimes I step back,
Thinking about what the society will say?
My ignorant friends and family will laugh at me,
And to make them understand there is no way.
Tell me O' Humans,
What is her crime?
Can't she be loved.
Doesn't her beauty deserve to be appreciated.
Guilty are the artificial lines in the form of hierarchy and reputation which makes the world bifurcated.
We are so close my lady,
Yet we are miles apart.
This is what I understand by the term 'Social Distancing',
This is what that troubles my heart.
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