In the morning of yesterday
There were strangers talking in my garden, heads close together
Intent on each other, in whispers
I heard them say your name
And the earth shifted a little...the season moved forward a little
And I heard myself sigh like a dreamer
Harvesting hearts and marigolds
The thief steals in when we least expect it, masqued and lithe
Wanting an exploration of Souls
Oblivious, if we’re generous
But still the knife cuts deeply...the blade turns without intention
And I’m bleeding out like a Madrigal
I loved you too much in the Mirrorfall
I found you in the violin’s shadow
Dust and star tears are my witnesses
I love you
My joy and my abyss
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 6:07 AM UTC
it's been a strange trip
trying to get to the point
where I know myself
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 4:58 AM UTC
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
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 5:15 AM UTC
I know you.
Sometimes you say things, expecting that I won’t understand, and I think it’s strange because
I know you.
That’s what this is. I know you,
And I want you,
And I care about you
Anyway.
I want no one else.
You might not know me,
The stanchions you use to prop yourself up eating all that I have fed you,
In the darkness,
In the night,
But I know you.
And I want you anyway.
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 6:25 AM UTC
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 6:23 AM UTC
Roses,
Highlight my bruises.
Sunflowers,
Illuminate Hidden confessions;
Softly,
Like petals;
I roam from wonder to another
Yet Swiftly
I vanish.
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 4:13 PM UTC
I try to put the pieces back together and then cry when they cut me
Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 5:41 AM UTC
You were
My sigh of relief
And now
You’re gone
And I’m sitting here
Gasping for air
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 4:22 AM UTC