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Bimsara De Silva Jan 2022
No matter how heartbroken I might be,
No matter how hurt or upset or far,
No matter how sad or fat or ugly,
No matter how deep or tender our scar,

No matter the length of time that goes by,
No matter the path that we might decide,
No matter the reason we said goodbye,
No matter the size of feelings inside,

No matter what mistakes might have been made,
No matter what we may have said while hurt,
No matter what debts need to be repaid,
No matter what, if subtle or overt,

I will always be yours.
Bimsara De Silva Jan 2022
Why
I smiled as you threw my heart to the ground
I know it’s gonna **** me but,
When you want to talk I’ll still be around,
Wish I had just kept my mouth shut

I didn’t expect this to be easy
But I’d rather be bad than not good enough
To earn the love you’d give them freely,
Tell me, why they measure up

Did everything I didn’t say mean nothing?
What was I supposed to do?
Why doesn’t it matter what I can bring?
Why doesn’t it matter how much I love you?
Bimsara De Silva Jan 2022
A prisoner of warmth.
Trapped in this cell of anxiety.
With a blind warden.
One who cannot see the prisoner.
Yet talks to the god as if it is nothing
Your golden hair that flows and curls.
The demeanor that rips sympathy from me.
Your unprecedented kindness.
It all brings my heart to a still.
And my mind at ease
Is it love?
A simple admiration of beauty?
I do not know.
I simply feel like I’m drowning.
Drowning in this silence.
Drowning in my fear
In this dark void.
That I float in despair.
You are my beacon.
My hope.
My brilliant star that I wish to pluck.
The star that I love
And I always will
Bimsara De Silva Sep 2021
Now, who the **** would ever be a poet?
What leaves a man or woman so dissolute
To write in verse and then to freely show it
Rather than be embarrassed as they ought

Perhaps their parents didn’t raise them right
Their fathers didn’t beat them as they should
There’s plenty pleasant ways to waste a life
But poetry does no one any good

It doesn’t heal the sick, nor raise a smile
And poems don’t land people on the moon
Wherever men are doing work worthwhile
There’s rarely ever poets in the room

Most any fool who owns a pen and a paper could
Write verse, but there’s no pride so seek no praise
For most folks know that doesn’t mean you should
But poets, they can’t help but act depraved
Bimsara De Silva Aug 2021
The night can be livelier than day sometimes
The darkness can be brighter sometimes
There's hope in stillness of night
For those who don't belong otherwise
In which lies the flaws of society
The perfectly structured flaws

There's a heavy silence that lay in darkness of night
like a wet blanket on surface of earth
A blanket in which you can crawl and hide;
In silence which you can almost hear
In silence that unhinges people
In silence that keeps them sane
Bimsara De Silva Aug 2021
Graveyards are just like gardens,
If a garden is in reverse.
For beneath the tombstone markers and the green grass above,
Graveyard beds hold fester like a glove
There’s an overgrowth of decay where the corpses lie down,
And where bodies flower with maggots and tree root crowns.
They bear scarlet fruit, rot-sweet in death,
And swarm with green where they’ve since lost their breath.
There’s life waiting once one falls from the hearse,
Because graveyards are just like gardens,
If a garden is in reverse.
Bimsara De Silva Jul 2021
There is a path we all must walk that isn't set in stone
staring down the empty path I start to feel alone
I make my way down the path around each bend and curve
cause here the path is the master and all on it must serve
Any direction that I look it all becomes a blur
Except for when I stare ahead and what I see is her
A fellow traveler along this path I did not think to see
A woman that looked ageless yet familiar to me
Step by step, inch by inch, I'm finally on my way
thinking all the while of what it is I'll say
Could it be that we were meant to find each other here
Or maybe it's a mistake to want to get so near
Midnight Black is the color of her falling hair
Matching how I feel inside but I know she won't care
The closer that I get to her she starts to turn her back on me
when I take a step back she turns her face so I can clearly see
The pain on her face tells me all I need to know
And what I see inside her eyes tells me that I need to let her go
There is a path we all must walk that isn't set in stone
Time to walk a new path even if it means alone
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