Pardon Me, My Lady.

Pardon me, for this may be too much
For you, cringe worthy or too cliché
Call it all things as such
Lately I feel good, comforted by subliminal pain
The doctor claims, he’s found
High levels of intoxication through my veins
I am a drunk without drinking, a glass of wine
I am a poet without learning, the letter
I am a painter without touching, the brush
I am a lover without knowing, my beloved
Because my lady, as I see you loom
From the furthest corner of this room
Eyebrows are arched upward,
Filling your swollen forehead
With a look of disdain
Your arrogance belittles me, your status humbles me
Your ignorance and secret wonderment, excites me
You are a silly requirement, I would accept with fain
Thank you is all I can say to you
For I have learnt to love the soul, the world
The drunk, the artist, the writer
As the mysteries of the Greater love, unfurl
Your ignorance has led me to prospects, brighter.
- Namal Siddiqui