Monday.

First day of the week.

He was absent. Was he sick?

I took a glance at the empty chair.

How I wish he was sitting there.

I hope tomorrow I’ll get the chance to see him.

Cause a day is not a day without him.



Tuesday.

I came at school early,

Wanting to see him badly.

There was a sad smile coated on my face,

When I didn't see him at his usual place.

His chair was still empty.

What happened to him?

I have no idea.

I have no clue.

All I knew, I was feeling blue.

I tried to brush my thoughts away,

And just listened at the class all day.

I thought I’m okay,

That I was feeling fine.

But when I saw his chair empty,

I knew my smile was not happy.



Wednesday.

Crestfallen and disappointed.

He was still not here.

I could feel the emptiness in my mind.

Just like the empty chair in my behind.

I asked my classmates,

They just shrugged their shoulders.

I asked his friends, they don’t know why.

Soon my dark eyes began to cry.



Thursday.

Too many question popped in my head.

Frustrated and confused,

I committed a major offense.

I fled from school during recess.

I want to see him today,

To know the reason of that young man,

Why for four days he was gone.

There was no one in their house.

Only their old maid.

“Where could I find him?” I asked her.

She gave me a piece of paper.

I went home with a heavy heart.

It felt like my world was drifted apart.

I looked at the paper once again,

Tears fell down while reading them.

I don’t how to endure this kind of ache,

I kept on telling it was just a mistake.



FRIDAY.

Fresh flowers I brought,

I put them on the ground.

I smiled bitterly,

As I read his name in the tomb.

“I love you.”  I whispered.

I didn't hear anything in return.

“I love you!” I shouted.

Hoping he’ll answer me at ease.

But all I heard was the sound of the trees.

I cried again..

How many tears should I cry,

For him to come back?

For him to be with me again?

To feel his warmth.

To smell his scent.

To stare at his eyes.

It was too late.

Too late…



Saturday.

I wept until I could no longer feel the pain.



Sunday.

I did what I've done yesterday.



Monday..

I come to school.

Act as if nothing happen,

They asked me if I’m fine,

I nodded and smiled.  

While walking into our room,  

Wearing fake mask behind my gloom.

But tears fell again on my face,

When I didn't see him at his usual place.

I glance at the empty chair,

How I wish he was sitting there.

I can see myself
destroying
my own dignity,
popping it like
bubble-wrap
and watching as it
deflates
under my
forcible
fingertips.

Which is the weakest thing of all
Mine heart can ponder?
The sun, a little cloud can pall
With darkness yonder?
The cloud, a little wind can move
Where’er it listeth?
The wind, a little leaf above,
Though sere, resisteth?

What time that yellow leaf was green,
My days were gladder;
But now, whatever Spring may mean,
I must grow sadder.
Ah me! a leaf with sighs can wring
My lips asunder—
Then is mine heart the weakest thing
Itself can ponder.

Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined
And drop together,
And at a blast, which is not wind,
The forests wither,
Thou, from the darkening deathly curse
To glory breakest,—
The Strongest of the universe
Guarding the weakest!

There’s a girl who gives a ****,
She plunders down the road.
So boldly she is free to be,
That her life became her destiny.

The dragon, the witch, the soul mate,
Ceased on scene so desperately.
She cries and mourns like a flying beat,
Of rhythm trapped in an icicle.

She dreamed of lovely possibilities,
But her dreams were just fantasy.
The male she yearned for,
Was no more than false protrude.

This guy was just a friendly face,
And so he viewed her as a simple dude.
She tried so aimlessly,
To grab his shinning sight.

She knew she could be free,
But she lacked bravery.
The girl took a leap and fell like a sheep,
Into the ground with no retreat.

She could not form a connection,
Between her and him.
She failed and failed,
Until she realized there was a bond, all along.

She was not meant for him;
He was not meant for her.
They were meant to be,
Not soul mates, but tight knotted friends.

175

I have never seen “Volcanoes”—
But, when Travellers tell
How those old—phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still—

Bear within—appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men—

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place—

If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome—
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy “Pompeii”!
To the Hills return!

Once upon a time it was me and you
Once upon a time my wishes all came true
Once upon a time you kissed my every inch of skin
Once upon a time happiness did begin
But wishes don't come true any more
The skin that you once kissed is now becoming sore