Each day I wake up wondering if it's me who has lost you, or it's you who lost me.
Every night before my head hits the bed, I think about you. I try to conjure you up in my sleep but you, Muse,  just like my dreams, steer clear away from me.

I keep wishing for you to knock at my door to shake me up from my reverie.

Break my flow,
Hypnotize,
And overwhelm me!

I know I've treated you like a ***** before, everytime you came unannounced, I sent you back; kicking and screaming like a Banshee.

And now;
With a cheap wine stain,
A woman in rage,
Working on a menial wage
Drinking until her kidneys scream out in pain
-I pass out, just like the last night and the night before.
You've left me in this reality all alone,
Without any words to hide behind.
Without any form of refuge
To keep me safe under this scrutinizing light.

I have a hurricane kept bottled inside and with each beat of my heart, I can feel the cage tremor. But you, like a narcissist; keep on laughing at my misery. You really enjoy this game: where you tug at my heart as I try to resist your influence within my brain.

I often wonder if there are any clues that you've left behind, because after all it was your mystery that had seduced my pride.

Each time I lift up the pen, my spine shivers with anticipation for you to takeover and consume my mind until every word that I scribble, bleeds with truth about the lies that you cook to keep me on your side.

I wish to carve you out of my own soul but right now it feels so hollow and cold.
I need you to set me free,
Keep me up all night and let me bleed;
Like a fresh wound that refuses to heal.
Until all these thoughts in my head finally find peace.

Oh Darling,
you were just a
delicate droplet of water
While he was someone
lusting to drown in the sea.
He didn't know that you
were the beginning of the
tempestuous calamity.
He craved the danger
and assumed that you
just provided serenity,
He wished to conquer
the ocean and
witness the end.
But he failed to understand
that your existence is
something no man can transcend.

Who would've thought that love can bind you
and tear you down all at the same time.

What if I tell you that all his words were based on a lie, and you were just a silly little girl who was prolonging an inevitable goodbye.

I'm a writer,

But what if I tell you that I'm losing my identity? It's been a few months and I feel that I'm slowly losing my ability to write.
I always considered myself a poet. But now, I feel like a dictionary with thousands of blank pages. With no definition and no sense of reason.
And I'm scared.
How will you ever love me now?
You fell in love with me because of my words, didn't you?
They always stirred some sort of emotion within you. Something that you tried so hard to hide. But whenever you read the poems that I wrote, your armor cracked.
What if I tell you that writing had slowly turned into a burden? Baggage that has now become too heavy for me to carry all alone. I realized a while back, how I pushed myself to write just to connect with you. To let you know how I'm suffering. I expressed all my agony through those words. I wrote about how, all those words, that had once been a blessing now seem like punishment.
You called that mad rambling of words, 'Beautiful.' You were too blind to see how this pain was consuming me. So, once again I forced myself to down the poison that you thought, tasted like an age-old wine.

Darlin, the words have abandoned me, and now so did you.

There's a sorrow in my soul
That I wish to share
But it's hiding behind its own curtain of despair.

I was up all night
Wondering what sadness tastes like;
Smooth as honey with a pinch of spice,

As it drips down the throat,
And settles like acid
Burning the intestines.

He told me what regret looks like:
Heartache and gut-wrenching cries.
I knew, it's misery that resides in his eyes;

Crouching in the corner
Ready to pounce,
Biting into the neck,
As the blood spills out

Scraping old wounds,
Blurry sight.
A closet full of skeletons,
With penance on the mind.

Loss smells a lot like Christmas.
Family gathering around
Sharing memories of a lifetime.

Photographs from 1989,
Same old letters
Scattered around the desk.

People talk about what could be
Heaven and Earth,
And everything in between.

Deceit sounds a lot like a dream
You get out of one,
And fall into another as you sleep.

Shards of glass
Ripping through the spine
As shame builds up a shrine.

Desperation feels a lot like home
You float in the air,
As you cling onto hope.

Somedays are better;
Somedays are worse
But what remains

Is a lesson that has been left unheard.

I won't let them hurt you,
Even when we are nearing towards our end
Remember, You have the blood of the wolves coursing through your veins
You were born to be beautiful and wild
You have the power to massacre an entire village,
Yet, I know you'll choose to be kind
For you have a heart that can't see someone cry
You'll be dauntless and free throughout
But dare they restrict your freedom,
Dare they tame your wild,
Dare they point at you with the sharp end of the knife
Never forget that you're a hound in a sheep's disguise
Rip out their throats if they force you to fight
Unleash your power,
And revel in who you really are
Let them know that you bow to no one
Let their fear be your strength
You were born to be the predator
Stop being treated like a prey
Howl until they finally set you free
Be glorious; you are a warrior
And thats what you were destined to be.

She smelled of love letters and spilled ink,
Wrote down the words of wisdom,
As she sipped on her caffeinated drink,
She lived in the world that resided in her head,
Didn't find salvation in money or fame,
But in the library instead,
She looked beautifully surreal in pink,
As the sun rose during the early morning of spring
To kiss the daisies that grew near the brink,
She bore prophecies within her eyes,
One couldn't challenge their veracity,
For it would be like questioning the vastness of the skies,
People always thought she didn't fit in,
Just because she found peace within the books,
And the words had built a home under her skin.

Now that the sun has finally set,
And the moon shall no longer rise.
The moth will drift away from the flame;
The prophet knew that this friendship won't survive.
Memories that turned into ashes and flew away with the wind,
Treacherous betrayal often hurts more than the sharp end of a knife.
Broken promises and white lies, no more secrets left to exchange,
Except for a heavy heart that'll cherish the past till the end of time.

Winter emerges, as I grief for something that was forcefully taken away from me.
I'm the one who rises from the sea,
I control the currents; the waves thrash with the mere mention of my name.
The earth tremors at my wake.
I'm not made up of angelic grace,
I have thunder brewing within my veins.
Don't be fooled by my innocent face,
I may appear harmless but I was born tainted with the blood of Hades.
I seek no redemption, for I'm the judge who sits on the grand pedestal.
My violence knows no bounds,
It shoots and kills
And in this game, no survivors are allowed
So my blood reeks of vengeance
And my soul seethes,
As all the gory deeds and sacrifices fuel up my needs.
I'm the chaos, the primordial entity that brought you into being.
None of the gods can ever catch me, for I'm just a mirage,
I appear to be close but I'm always far out of reach.

Would you dare to flirt with the tempest as it swallows everything in sight?
Thrash around with the current that resides in his eyes?
Drown yourself to bottom of the sea, lose your senses as everything turns eerie?
Fall and rise just like the tides, as he commands the storm with an ominous twinkle in his eyes?
No hold over reality,
No control over the mind.
You have succumbed to the tantalizing darkness that had started to crawl up your spine.
You fell in love as he smeared the gasoline over the path that will lead you to your demise.
He brought out a lighter and offered you the chance to burn,
Slowly with agony you start to squirm, afraid that he'll send you to a place from where you won't be able to return.
Now.. Would you dare to date the devil as he stares right into your eyes?
Takes you out to dance at the dead of the night just to possess your body and leave you to die?

The words that I once wrote upon your soul have merged with your skin and bones.
Now the poetry flows through your veins and it's poet remains unknown.

Eyes that know me, they know that I can't hide my pain for long. Words often flow out of my mouth like a waterfall.
Uncharted and turbulent
Just like a train of bullets, which fly aimlessly with the intent to cause damage without paying any heed to the consequences.
My words often lack the vulnerability; they sound a lot more like the rumbling thunder that comes pouring down like a rain storm.
My eyes on the other hand, they scream, they yell, they beg and plead for the freedom to shed the tears and break down the dam. They desperately search for someone who is ready to hear my story.
They desperately search for home.

I lost the love that I rightfully deserved, when I decided to let you go.

For you, I'd do anything and everything to make you understand the gravity of the words that I'm about to say,
For you, I would pluck down the beautiful white orb from the sky because I have seen you admire the moon every night.
For you, I'd paint the entire world on the back of your hand because I know traveling is a passion that you can't get out of your head,
For you, I'd burn the entire world down in flames to revive the hope that died within you when you lost the game.
For you, I'd mold an entire cluster of infinities to provide you with an ocean of endless opportunities,
For you, I'd defy all the odds and beat death at its own game just to spend another day in your arms.

Someday my love will scream louder than the words that I write.

The moment you decide to leave, I'll forever be left astray.
I'll wander around in space like a nomadic astronaut who has lost his way.

No soul to love, No hand to hold
I fell in love with someone
Who had a heart that was cold.

In his heart, I found a museum full of poetry.

For her you'd have massacred an entire village without a second thought.
Whereas for me, you won't even consider the idea of picking up a sword.

Your heart isn't a home for every person who seeks shelter.
Your heart isn't a piece of paper where people can sign off without saying goodbye.
Your heart isn't supposed to heal their wounds every time.
Your heart isn't a beautiful painting where people can trace it's different strokes
Please remember that your heart isn't a home for every person that knocks at your door.
Don't let them tamper with the love that you harbor.
Your heart is not made of gold. But it is full of kindness.
Your heart is not a home with a welcome mat spread right outside.
Your heart isn't a yard sale where people can trade emotions whenever they feel like.
Your heart is naive like a kid and it does not realize what is wrong and what is right.
Your heart is not a home for the person who leaves their footprints on the ground and vanishes right out of sight.

There are things that are better left unsaid; like when I asked you to leave, you left, even though the tears brimming in my eyes were begging you to stay.
When the door closed shut behind you, I had to swallow the lump down my chest, get a hold over my emotions and carry out with my daily routine without a mere mention of your name.
And then, do you know what I did at night? When the house was empty and only the moon could witness my vulnerability from the open window, I decided to let it all out. Once and for all. I cried till my cheeks started burning because of all the tears that I harshly wiped off. I wanted to torture myself so I replayed the memory of you leaving over and over again in mind. I howled in pain while clinging onto your old favorite tee shirt which I gifted to you on your last birthday.
I tried to calm myself so I brushed my fingers through my hair, like you used to whenever I was anxious. No medicine could compare to the magical power that your warm touch possessed.
And the next morning I found myself lying on the floor with a broken bottle of whiskey. The broken shards of glass seemed so appealing. But I knew self harm wasn't an option so I tried to stand up and get ready for the day. I went to work, my friends made a jib about how my hair looked funny, they had no idea that you left and it was me who had asked you to leave. I couldn't control my emotions so I left for home.
But even at home I felt homeless. I couldn't control the tears, and I cried harder than I did on the night before. My plan of not shedding another tear for you failed miserably. I opened my phone gallery and clicked on my favourite picture of yours and talked to the inanimate object. Begging and pleading you to come back.
I guess your absence is nothing but my penance. Something that I must suffer silently and all alone.

Things have changed, I'm aware of it. But I wonder, what do you feel when she calls out your name. Does your face light up like that of a child on a Christmas morning? Does your heart skip a beat when she looks at you with all the love unleashed?
Does she cook you your favorite meal on Saturday mornings? A loaf of bread with a sunny side up and some bacon and fries?
Do you look at her with the same intense passion with which you looked at me?
I remember how I used to get weak in the knees whenever you kissed me. Does she react the same way?
Does she call you lover or babe, or does she, just like me, calls you by some funny nickname? Does she hold your hand like a child that is learning to walk for the first time? Does she play you her favorite songs on the guitar every night to help you fall asleep? I know I used to do that, and also I know that highway to hell doesn't really work as a lullaby. But you used to look at me with so much of love and joy. I wonder if you look at her the same way. Does she cry when a dog in some movie dies? Does she enjoy watching horror movies at night? Does she surprise you the way I used to? Placing sticky notes on the wall, and leaving love notes next to your pillowcase.
Does she write your name in the form of poetry? I doubt that. Because once you've been loved by a writer, you won't chase someone who is fascinated by the written word.
The thoughts that reached my pen, they escape from her lips everyday. And it's funny, that it is exactly what took you away.

She died because of the bleeding wounds that were caused by his callous words.

"Do you remember the time when we first met? I was wearing a guns and roses t-shirt and you were playing basketball with your friends? Remember how I was walking past the court and got hit by the ball, and you came running towards me, asking me if I was okay? Do you remember how shy you were when our hands touched for the first time? Your cheeks turned into the color of beetroot.
Do you remember how we became friends? I was new to the society in which you were the head? How scared I was when I had to sing for the audition round and you decided to sing along to my favorite song?
Remember how you asked me out? Took me by my hand and intensely gazed into my eyes, as Eric Clapton sang 'wonderful tonight' in the background? Remember how I started laughing and asked you to stop joking around. And then you just kissed me, to stop me from blabbering. I was stunned and shell shocked.
Remember when we got drunk after our first big fight? We said mean words and slept in separate rooms that night. Remember how I later knocked on your door to apologise? We drank the entire bottle of Jim Beam and got sloshed as we listened to Bob Dylan till the wee hours of the morning light.
Remember how it all began?"
I see no recognition in your eyes. I guess the amnesia didn't just take away your memories but it also took away everything that was mine.

I wonder where you got lost. You said that you'll be back soon. I look for you in every new face that I see. It's been more than a year and yet I cling onto some hope. I wish to catch a glimpse of your smile. But I see you no more.
Behind the shadows of my anxiety, I hide. Thinking what did I do so wrong that you decided to leave without saying a goodbye.
Did I overwhelm your soul? Was my love for you so heavy and *******? Did it suffocate your life? Made you feel like a prisoner trapped in the chains that I hold?
Or was it something else? Something that I cannot decipher, because when I fell in love with you, I thought we'll be bound forever.

Let me hurt you in a way that feels like love,
The way a flower feels the pain when it's petals are plucked.

I was a blank book. Within me, you wrote a beautiful love story.
Filled my pages with illustrative words and added a hint of mystery.
And then you stopped without finishing the end,
Turned me into a masterpiece, over which the lovers lament.

As an observer it all seems so easy to be a poet. They all assume that the only thing we require is a flair for rhyming and a set of words.
Yes, words; they come quite easily to us. Thanks to the uncountable nights that we stayed awake in hopes of breaking our hearts by reading and learning the phrases that cause a wave of torment in our souls. Those words really helped us to convey our pain when you left us all alone.
Weaving the words into a song of despair isn't as easy as you'd like to believe. The emotion that we start to feel. Initially,  it all comes to us as a dream. Then it turns into an epiphany and gradually it transforms into a invisible creature which squeezes the life out of us. And we bleed like ink on the piece of paper. We scribble your name in hopes to immortalize the moment forever.
And yet.. as a reader you say that it's easy to be a writer.

You're special. All my life I considered myself to be a multicolored iridescent stroke of art in this world of pastels shades and fine lines. I knew right from the start that I wasn't a masterpiece presented by Picasso or Kahlo. I was a pretty splotch of sunny hues and velvety blues cleverly spilled over the black canvas.
To find me beautiful, it required a keen eye that was ready to overlook the dainty presentation of the works of Van Gogh. There exists a story of pain and insanity behind each work of his creativity. I am and will always be the scribbled I ink across the sheet. There is a piece of poetry within me, for the person who is patient enough to look through my messy facade. And to pick up the pen and write a sonnet across my heart.
Even with the multicolored spots I bleed the words of love and loss. The two most basic emotions that are often left unexplored.
My soul hummed the old school love songs that no one could ever recognize. Until the day I met you. Even in a room full of exquisite wonders you chose me. You whispered the lyrics to my favorite song and left me spellbound. With a lopsided smile you held out your hand and asked me for a dance, without any conscious effort I floated and there I was; held securely in the arms of the man who owns my heart.

Sometimes the demon doesn't lurk underneath the bed.
Sometimes the demon doesn't live in your head.
Sometimes the demon takes a human form,
He lives inside your house
And makes you believe,
In things that can **** your dreams,
He feeds you nightmares which are sickly sweet.
He the sort of devil no one talks about,
He gifts you a sword to fight
And then chops off your arms,
He tells you run and hide in fear.
Takes away everything that you hold dear.
He's a demon who plays with your mind,
He learns your secrets and destroys your pride.
He's a narcissist with a heart that pumps black blood.
Pushes you around and then pulls you into the mud
He's a human who lacks humanity
And always treats you like a dummy.

Do you remember how he once taught you to fly and then clipped off your wings?
Broke your favorite toy because it could sing?
Do you remember how you once failed?
And how he made you cry, Locked you in the room with no light?

Yes, there are demons that live in your heart and mind. There demons that keep you awake all night. But don't be so naive; there are demons inside your house waiting for you to fall so that they can pounce.

After all my efforts to make him feel better,
He thanked me by pointing the gun and pulling the trigger.

We live in a world full of people who lack humanity.

I was a well written novel and you were a curious reader. You wanted to know what my words had to say. So you read my words silently, in the dark night as moon hid behind the clouds. You traced my passages from page to page, you didn't leave an inch untouched. You learnt my secrets and read your favourite parts over and over again. You scrutinized every tiny little detail, as if I was the most beautiful work of art and you were about to go blind. So you memorised my entire story and narrated it's tale, because you were too afraid to forget my name.

I wear my thoughts on my skin, till the blood spills out and the ink sets in. I rise from the open grave which nobody tried to cover because they were too afraid Of the monstrosity that hid deep beneath the surface. I’m not made of delicate flowers and intricate leaves I’m made of blood and flesh and all sorts of gory deeds. I need no saving for I’m not damsel, I’m just a woman who is about to build her own castle.

Such a shame it is,

To be a writer.

We feed on sorrow and pain

We romanticize the tragedy

And live off on the agony

Angst is what fuels our days

Love is something we love to illustrate

Through magical words

Which are written in calligraphy across pages

Heartbreaks become our muse

Lover’s betrayal becomes our passion

We claim to devote our time to writing

When the truth is that we are constantly just fighting!

Living in a mental battlefield

Where the conflicting thoughts

Trigger our rage and grief.

I'll be an unstoppable force when I'll immortalise your name on a piece of paper that nobody can destroy. The entire world will know about you. Even when you'll no longer be mine. They will know just how radiant your smile is, how beautiful and full of depth your eyes are, how heart wrenching it was for me to see you cry and how much we loved each other as we planned to pen down the saga of our times.
Just remember, no matter what, no matter where, you'll always and forever hold the pen through which I'll bleed, till the ink runs dry.

He was the pen and I was the paper.
And together we wrote the most beautiful love letter.

Out of all the things that I said and the words that I left unsaid,
Somehow, somewhere I ended up confessing my love for you.

I'll tear off my wings and yet learn to fly
I'll drink the elixir from the holy grail
And turn it into poison and wine.
I'll kiss the sun and convert it into a ball of ice
I'll **** the reaper that dares to take you away from my life.

How to define the word that doesn't require any sort of explanation?
Love isn't the word I'm talking about, if you thought so then you're certainly mistaken.
How do I define the emotion that is known as devotion?
Because thats what I feel when I look at his face which is sculpted with perfection.
His eyes shine with hope like the one that emnates from a beacon
His embrace feels no less than being in haven
He smiles a goofy smile with reckless abandon
His very existence is my biggest addiction
The moment he says something I melt and drown in compassion
Yet, I find it so hard to admit it all to him in the form of a confession
In my mind, he creates all sorts of confusion
And in my heart he happens to be the reason behind my constant contradiction.

I wish to paint you with words,
And write about you with feelings
But I fail to depict the depth that exists in your eyes.
So, I capture the moment by photographing every move that you make.
I scrutinize every small detail
Of how you laugh and how you smile
How the colour of the sun reflects in your eyes,
How the smell of coffee gets you happy and enticed.
How the sound of my voice makes you feel alive.
I photograph you in black and white;
To bring forth the kind soul that lies inside
I study every aspect in your life,
As if you're the subject of my never ending strife
I illustrate your passion in perfect light,
Emphasise on how your breath hitches as you sing along your favourite lines..
I trace the image with quivering hands and critical eyes
Admiring your toothy grin and your crazy hairstyle.
I compile the pictures and bring the masterpiece to life,
Leave you with a Thank You note without saying Goodbye.
For you weren't just my temporary muse or a beautiful yet fleeting view in sight
You were the eternal moment of ethereal bliss forever stored in my mind.

You've traced the scars that line up my arms.
You've kissed those streaming tears away.
You've made love to the rhythm of my soul.
Stolen my heart and held me in your warm embrace.
You've pricked yourself over my rough edges and blades.
You've adorned my hands with yours.
And now, You've weaved the letters of your name on the canvas of my soul.

Possessing a soul like a selfish thief.
Holding it close and never letting it leave.
That's what it's like to be loved by me.

The feelings that I hide, the words that often leave my lips dry.
The stinging tears that flow down from my eyes.
They all recite your name.

You're my personal contradiction
Because you wish to possess my soul
Yet, you refuse to call it yours.

And I'll burn like a thousand suns to make you realise, the love that I harbour for you isn't based on lies.