Love is a flame,
Mine burns hot.
Only a special woman can handle it,
It is her you were not.
You let it destroy you,
Burned you from inside out,
Your heart isn’t pure,
There’s nothing I could do.
You lost what all want,
A one of a kind love,
Much luck in your journey,
You’ll need it,
Now I’m done.

I don't know where I began.
I don't know where I'll end.
But I don't need to.
I know where I am right now.
I'm with friends. I'm with you.
And to me, that's a pretty
great place to be.

Is this the joy of a dream?
Can it be seen and lived in?
If I try to impose on it for it to be over
Shall it really be?
And If I acquire it
By desiring and praying
Shall it be mine?
Unless it is nothing deceiving or unnerving
Shall it come unto reality;
And be out of my depth?

When He loves
Its never meaningless
He does it unconditionally

When He provides
Its never insufficient
He does it exceedingly

When He takes on your battle
He doesn't send angels
But He does it himself willingly

When He forgives
He doesn't only do it fourteenth
But He does it seventy times seven

And when He breaks you
He doesn't destroy you
But He does it with grace

I call Him one of a kind

like chasing the air
which goes everywhere
im naive to try
but try i will
for just one loving stare

work.
always working so late.
i came home at 1:00 A.M.
i lived alone.
that was past tense.
he invited himself in,
and didnt listen when i said go away.
hes supposed to sleep on the couch,
but his shadow still lurks over my bed.

Sadness always makes us forget who we are -
when we are happy, its easy, because we don't care.
Anger makes us fight because we love too far,
we are never static, never one, but always fare.

I talk to the sea
It talks back to me
The waves are moonlit and lovely
The pacific inside me
Breathes
I look into the Dreamer's eye
The starry night
The starry eyes
The dreamer dreams
A paradise
Silently
He dreams tonight

The moon whispers to the shining stars
Flirting, as it makes the ocean dance
We are just a glance
In this vast expanse
Of light
Dreamers dream
Why'll we've got the chance
And we'll keep dreaming
Till the world wakes up

From this lovely ephemeral night
Into the eternal daylight
Of truth
And justice
And love

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

Forsaken shrine,
Nights align,
In a spotted chalice,
Like onyx wine.
Out rings a bell,
A raven knell,
The wicked cry,
And doleful spell--
     --Of witching's time.

A wayward soul,
On blinded stroll,
As through the dark,
They must patrol.
The traveled path,
A harsh lambast,
And so return,
The hour's bath.

Fore a shape,
A phantom escape,
Awaiting idol,
Past a molten scape.
River quelled,
Fusion's shell,
Lest a shade and shadow weld,
Beware the spell--
     --Of witching's time.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

had I been older I'd've
probably'd've recognized
the hell in your eyes
bus I mistook it for love

had I been wiser then
as I ought to have been
I'd've known the sin
of what'd been done

There're always consequences for you,

But when you really love someone,

You'll make consequences for them too.

I’ll just deal with the consequence later
right now I’ll allow my consciousness to waver
serving up a flavor,
that tentatively turns into a vapor
is a remedy I savor
along with the marrying of a melody that influences my behavior
as the intensity of the intended entropy gets greater

i think that the most damaged people in the world
are the kindest
and the softest

because they know
that scabs can be picked
and you can bleed

You are not the love of my life,
You are the life of my love ❤️

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

Love can make us losers
Invested in love’s game
It can hurt to be human
But..
I love you just the same!

i cried everyday for you
because
i thought blue
was your favorite color

At first when we met
I danced to my own beat
To my own toon
That whistled in my ears
But then as we kept talking
Kept growing closer
You became the song
That was evermore stuck
Dancing on the walls
Of my head

Id cry too,
Cry for me,
Cry for you,
Cry every time you see the color blue.
Cry alone in bed,
Cry each night after the prayers that are said.
Fill a bucket full of tears,
Those aren’t yours anymore,
Give them here.

I think I've realized the more poems I write about someone the more toxic they are to me

Here's number 25 for you

I suppose that pales in comparison to the thousands I wrote for my first love but I've known you a lot less time

And you've never even been mine

And that's okay

Because at this rate

You never will be.

In the deep corners of 3am,
I find her.

The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

And I wonder,
Did you do it because,
You thought I was actually good?
Or just because you knew me?

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Opinions are symptoms of society.

I am human
and I have lived, and breathed, and seen...
and fallen and stood,
and loved and lost.

And I seek.
And I seek.

And I breathe, and I look, and I live.

And I live.
And I love.
And I see.

I am a poet,
or I like to call myself one.
My heartaches and heartbreaks give life to empty pages;
I rarely compose from glorious days.
I’m inspired by the world, by people around me
but mostly by my pain.
I consider myself an introvert
for you will rarely hear me speak,
but on the other hand, I have much to say
just not with my lips
but with a pen.
I hide behind ink and paper
ready to write my feelings away.

I am the poetry that I write.

Deny the fact
Live in a dream...

The reality was not meant
for some of us.

The hurt may go away
but your memory will
forever rest in my soul.