This has always been like this.
We open up
Because we have yet to decide our sanity process.
In that process, we decide whether we bleed or do not bleed.
We open
For the sake of our sanity.
We may or may not bleed, that's dependent on how we cry our hearts out.
But I don't understand this bittergourd-like wisdom about why we have to bleed if we bleed.
Why?

If you are angry today,
I understand.
I may bleed someday because
you may have the love in you to open up.

But why do we have to bleed?

I don't understand the bittergourd-like wisdom.

We open up.
That's for sure.
But.
©shivpoetesspriya

An evening wonder was filled with my questions:  
Was I a fan of our school subjects?  
I recalled sitting at the corner of old times,  
Having no base with all the naivety that hadn't explored enough to be beyond naivety.  

I tried raising a question to myself with the benefit of the doubt:  
What if I were a fan of any of my school subjects?  
Maybe I was, or maybe I wasn't.  
But in that maybe,  
Maybe I made efforts to try to understand the lurking theme of connection while I changed the chapters one by one.  

But this reopening of castles of old beginnings,  
Here and there, asks me today,  
Did we ghost each other?  

Did you ghost me?  
Did I ghost you?  

So this old time memorizing,  
Even though I figured out how kind and loving you are,  
Alas, the big thing is that there is no friendship between us.  

All the razors of words and tongues that didn’t and couldn’t express the words we should have spoken made the adjoining softness vanish as no feelings ruled.  

So this reopening study  
Makes my low chin observe with stroking fingers.  
Even if we are fans of the subjects, like we are physics and chemistry,  
But there is no friendship between us!  

This hits differently, but it is a truth of the unspoken textbook of this context.  

This.  
Turning the pages sometimes tells us.

A scoring album,  
A sketch art album,  
An album that shows the state of mind,  
Keeps varying,  
Showcasing different mindsets,  
Changing emotions  
That stroke with the hues of colorful exchanges,  
Without letting them get trapped in the myriads of journeys.  
These varying emotions and thoughts,  
Echoing from the heart's knots,  
Keep showing the frequency of intangible artistic scores.  
©shivpoetesspriya

Did you catch a tear while you were looking at me?  
Do you know how much I miss holding your hand?  
Did you miss me while you were talking to a friend?  

Do you know what song I sing when I feel you looking at the stars?  

Oh shining little star,  
are you away?  
Are you away?  

Can you take away my sorrow  
with your fairy hands?  
Oh shining star,  
are you away?  
Are you away?  

This poem sings a song.  
Are you away  
and not listening?  
Are you away?  

Oh sorrow, did you see the star that’s away?  
Oh, that’s away.  

Can I hold you and cry?  
Aren’t you my savior?  

Can I hold you  
and cry?  

Aren’t you my savior?  
Oh,  
aren’t you my savior?  

Is this another piece of a poem  
that I am writing?  
Is this piece in vain?  

Tell me, oh savior,  
can I hold you and cry?  

It is an embrace of everything that can be received.  
It is a special embrace of both your joys and sorrows.  

I hope you get plenty of light and happiness.  
©shivpoetesspriya

Why the Realm of Tears is Different?  
Always very unpleaded,  
Raw, the intent of emotions that carry within themselves and flow off with wounded feelings.  
But these unpleaded tears fall from the pleaded heart, showering the wisps that show the ruins of a wounded fleck.

Why is the realm of tears always different?  

When I say these words, it is not the words that form the structure for these emotions.  

The raw tears,  
Unpleaded they are,  
Honest they are.  

They are felt in the deep asserting realm inside the existing realm.  

Why are they so honest?  
Raw and  
Unpleaded.  

I think of wrapping their emotions in words to tell their plight.  

But their realm cannot be caged in words.  

They are felt.
With heart.  
In their natural realm.  

Why are they so different, pure light with some pain,  
Yet flow unpleadedly with a pleading heart?  

©️ shivpoetesspriya

My heart doesn't want to be a Gordian knot in a
scamper to solve any problem,  
so it has started acting up fashionably.

Fashionable, the term I thought was your situated
phrase feels more terrestrial here,  
not like tequila imagining a terabyte.  
The enclaving and composing scope of the internal
granite feature  
have begun to learn the preparedness to embrace the feelings of your knowing smile.

This process has made me reflect on the gooiest heart

that keeps remembering your glance.

My inner spectrum feels laughter in the mirth shrub of
elocution,  
so I must admit that it is not about the structure,  
but the snazzier, contemplative, and contemporary
spirit  
it gives me by allowing my heart to feel.

Then I remember the hundredth tension of the
connecting poles  
and the occupied hold of the heart,  
and I want to be your terrapin!

©shivpoetesspriya

I keep my heart racing for you.
But why did you leave me?
At this tender moment,
Why did you leave me?
At this soft juncture,
Why did you leave me?
When I wanted you so much,
Why did you leave me?

It is true,
some gems are forsaken.
But if you see clearly,
It is obvious,
you would see luminosity
in some piece of darkness.
That side of your sight,
Yes, there
you would see the slightest
tint of luminosity.
I call it my hope.

Why did you leave me?
But I see my hope dwelling in peace
and cycling through all the growth.

Why did you leave me?
I want my luminosity back.

I want it.
I always want it.
©shivpoetesspriya