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Aishwarya Jan 2012
It's been over a year and
I still miss your presence here.
Do you even think about me?
Do I ever cross your mind?
Is this how it feels to be free?
Feeling alone and incomplete?
Those flashbacks.
They cause a heartache.
They bring back memories.
But now its far too late.
Sometimes I close my eyes and
I still feel your warm breath on my cheek,
Your hands on my waist,
The way you used to kiss me.
When I'd open my eyes,
I come back to reality.
You stopped loving me.
That's what you said.
You told me you liked me
But that wasn't enough.
Did you ever consider how I felt?
How much I loved you then?
I long for your company,
It's something I'll never get.
I need to accept the truth.
I need to let go.
Aishwarya Dec 2011
Trying to find the words to make this sound right.
Trying to purge the burden of guilt by writing this at night.
Telling you how I'm feeling will make me feel a little light.
It's quite cheesy but just bear with me alright?

Remember those nights I wouldn't get any sleep?
Ever wondered what I would think about that was so deep?
Apart from thinking about the regular stuff,
I also think about the special someone who started out as a crush.

There are a few wounds that just aren't healing.
Its the first time I've even felt such a feeling.
Maybe its because I've never know someone this well before.
It's because of you that I've stopped being insecure.

I'm sorry for making promises I wasn't around to keep.
Saying that made me feel better. Tonight I'll get some sleep!
And when you say 'Its okay.' I know its really not.
I'm really sorry for all those times and I love you a lot!
Aishwarya Dec 2011
Their waspish comments pierce my soul
Like needles injecting poison of some sort.
The girl who greets me in the mirror
Has flawed features.
Maybe people were being honest after all.
Maybe I am what they say I am - fat.
Never before have I come across a situation so abstruce.
A desire to be be made of plasticine fills my mind.
Imagine!
I could mould myself with my fingertips
Remove faults, gain perfection.
I look around for a quick remedy,
Something to divert my mind.
Now that I've found it- thin, sharp and silver,
I hold it firmly and drag it
Over the soft skin of my hand over and over again.
It smarts terribly but it feels like the pain within is fading.
From fear of death and weltering, I leave my wrists untouched.
The scar remains as a constant reminder
Of the sin I committed,
Of how weak I was,
And of how I could not handle criticism.
Two years back, I got told by people that I had put on weight. As a result of not being able to handle the criticism and comments, I found peace in self harming.
I don't self harm anymore and I'm proud to say that I can handle critisism!

— The End —