and lie that you know
how to miss me.
Pass me by a thousand time
in these small rooms,
none which feel like the home I wanted.
Once you told me that the issue is
that I want a lot of things, that I want too much.
That wanting doesn’t suit someone like me.
I find the person I am not in everything you like,
everything that makes you loose control,
everything that forces you to make mistakes.
When I cried the first time,
you told me that you can’t help
that your heart doesn’t say my name.
You told me as an assurance
that your heart doesn’t know love for anyone else either.
I am a person like that, who hoped
that you can be mine as long as you are no one else’s.
I am person like that, who stayed because no one did
and no one would.
A person who cries everyday, only to hear your assurances again,
only to hear the lies that can save my breaking love for you.
Tag Archives: come
You were the most imperfect person I ever met
and have made me believe that I am worse.
Or maybe I saw too much of you.
that you made me feel sick of you,
sick of myself,
and sick of whatever they call love.
You stumbled around
walking over my feelings,
drunk on your pride
and your sense of entitlement,
threw away what I treasured
because obviously you knew better,
called me insane
called me names
when I called you out on your hypocrisy.
Waking up next morning
expecting another day of a convenient love
with this inconvenient woman.
One day, that day won’t come.
Another hour passes by,
without your voice,
without the hope
of you coming back for me.
“Why has this world turned against me like this”,
I want to ask this,
but I can’t because
isn’t this how things normally are?
Isn’t this the world I have always lived in?
Though my heart should explode,
from losing you,
Just countless hours pass by
while I try to live the life
that I have always failed at living.
Love is not a bitter word anymore,
it only hurt me when we loved.
Now it is another word, another person
who doesn’t need me.
I did mean it all,
I just didn’t want you to know.
My momentary courage-
the result of my long sleepless nights,
let’s agree to call it my foolishness.
For I won’t do anything as preposterous as that ever again.
I won’t expect much from you again,
not because I was at wrong.
Even though it was the only thing I could do,
I regret it so much.
I hate myself for trying to believe in you,
for pushing myself to do the right thing
for your sake.
As always you eat fast and cut me off.
As always you have somewhere to go.
There are too many people whom you must keep happy.
Today I won’t throw everything on my plate for you.
I won’t come to door to see your cold back.
I wish I could go back to the dreams
where I told you about my life, about my pain
and you held me as I cried,
where you took me to the doors of my new life.
But instead all I see in every face is your face.
In your face all I see is my pathetic self
who wanted to lean on someone like you.
i close all the doors
as if a storm in coming,
as if closed doors can protect me from something so huge,
as if hiding is a better option than fleeing.
‘i wish i had created more places to hide in my life’
i thought this as tried to burn all my best clothes
as if i will freeze to death otherwise
and nothing i wear, no new face i paint on myself
will deflect or reduce the hate in the eyes that look at me.
soon i had nothing to burn,
nothing to destroy.
only resentment against myself,
only a feeling of failure
continued to live in this body
growing each second, trying to push me out.
When you see me walk towards my grief,
towards my past,
with my head sinking down,
with my hands full of my own pieces,
stop me dear.
Come to me.
Run to me.
Call out to me
even when you think I cannot hear.
Hold me back
even when you think I cannot be stopped.
that you will try.
The winter rains
have found me again
but only without you.
They ask me of I still believe in eternity
and I choose not to answer
because I am living in one,
even if it not the one I wanted.
Your sweet face and words,
that are no longer yours,
is the only analgesic sleep
I get in this tiring and painful existence.
I am promised
that there is only one who will look after me,
there is only one who is mine.
But can I actually believe in one love.
Isn’t it too tragic?
For there are many that will never stick around
in spite of their love or mine.
There are many for whom all this is nothing more
than the time they have spent on strangers,
to run from themselves.
And if I find myself
alone at the end,
am I supposed to wait for all those who live to leave?
Am I the only one who is supposed to wait and suffer?
While the whole world scratches out their own words
realizing it as idiotic and impractical,
but still wanting the weight of this ideal
to be carried by others.
They want to roam the world
and come back home to find food and bed made with love,
not minding the responsibility of waiting
that they have put on someone else.