I wanted to tell him thatI went back to the fountain the one made of moon marble in the neighborhood made of coal, andI fished for his wishes, the forgotten cold coins,
that once I believedI could find him in the things he left behind and I was wrong. I could only see the lingering complains and the eventual hate in the fact that he left.
But the romantic in me just couldn’t stop till I did the impossible, The romantic in me has no eyes, no ears only a tongue to ask for more. The work of running, begging, searching for a lost coin was left to me.
So I picked a random coin and lied thatit was his, just likeI picked him in this world of millions and I told myself he is mine.
I wanted to to tell him that even I was tired of my“shows of love” which played one lie after another till someone broke. But I guess he knows already.
The sun in your eyes sets so slowly. I need to remind myself that this is not the end. This is not the end. This is not the end. This is but a chasm left open for the love to see. For the love to see and for this love to grow into the darkness we hide from each other, from this world, from our own eyes. She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me today, tomorrow she may not, she will love me as long as she can. These are the words I got to say and suffer over, again and again. These are the words that made me walk a little bit more. Is there anything more beautiful than this? That you were the light, the wind, the silence, the flickering hope in my heart. How can I lose you, when you are all that I am.
you and the me that i was, that you hated once, but not as much what i am right now
you and your rough sketch of me that looks like bits and pieces of your past lovers
you and your ticking clock, both waiting for me to change
you and you habit of making me wait, of walking out on me
you and your empty seat that you have already forgotten
you with your air of arrogance that i pretend not to see for the sake of loving you
you and your smile that sometimes (most of the times) have nothing to do with me
you and your calls out of blue, calling me love, calling me heartless, throwing me away and calling me back,
you and your words, your voice always asking for more
you and your insistence of loving in past and hating in present
you and your love that wants never to be associated with me
you and your cruelty of always forgetting (only) me, forgetting the hurt you cause
you asking me to love you back in spite of all, asking me to speak only in sweet words, never asking me how i made it through the pain you gave me last time, never wondering what do i want out of this love, that has no place for me
i never learnt about gardening, nor about patience, nor about caring, nor about looking after anything that doesn’t speak, doesn’t complain, doesn’t tell me in plain words how i am terrible, how i mistakes make me even if those mistakes are not mine.
i wish i was blind, i wish i was mute, i wish i was the cactus in your bedroom. i wish i was the books you didn’t read but can’t throw away. i wish i could stop wanting to be a decoration in your life. i wish i could stay human and stay in love at the same time.
in my room i close my eyes, and find myself with you. it must be dream, i wish it was. for here you don’t cry because of me, don’t have to tear yourself up just to be nice to me. i wish it was a dream because here i have forgotten to tell you that i can’t love anything that loves me back. i wish you stop making my heart ache with your sincerity. i wish i woke up before you sacrifice anything more than you already have.
It pains me to say this but I can live without you. So remember my cruelty and forget me as easily as I have cast you aside.
You look better without my shadow and my life is easier without your light. Not everything in our life is about love. We are more than what our hearts want. We are more than whom we find. I will give you company till the night ends but that it where we part there is nothing to us more than that.
This loud and constant dripping of doubts is this all I need to mute, to mask, the voices of people who have known me too less, who have loved me more than they needed to.
. . .
I am filled with fear, tempted to run away when they make sacrifices for my happiness, to stay by my side. I know what I feel should be love, but all I feel is burden- a knife that pierces my skin and feelings testing how thick is my concern, seeing how far it can go before it finds the cold bone hidden in me. I bleed to little and give up too soon. It all ends before it even begins. This all was a bad idea to begin with.
All my roads and plans are lined up
side to side.
And on every path I take
I see myself giving up sooner or later
and the moment I give up
I become the same person I was
before the I took these steps.
Being the same person I am
used to comfort me once.
when all I hear around me is
how I need help,
how I leave a bitter taste in every kiss,
how I have a tendency to be painfully unrealistic,
how my efforts make other uncomfortable.
Now I cannot remain the same
when they have shown me how wrong I am.
But my trying hard to change
makes me hate myself that much more.
I ask myself “what do I really want?”
and I feel pathetic with the only answer that I hear
“I am ready to want anything and be anything,
that can make someone truly love me.”