Some day,
We'll meet.
And that day,
You'll tell me,
"Wish we didn't break apart."
Even today, I search for true love,
But it's elusive like the golden swan.
Even today, I look for it under the trees,
I look for it on the roads and in the parks,
"Wish we didn't grow apart."
It was just an instance of rudeness,
They tell me that I should've been mature.
Maturity, is it gained when you lose your identity,
Or when you stop reacting and start responding?
"Wish you hadn't left such scorny remarks."
I have braved hellish fires,
In you, I sought some balm.
You could've applied it soothingly,
But you left remarks so disparagingly,
"Wish I still could've been mature, and not reacted."
Someday, we might meet again,
You'll finally mature enough...
That day, you’ll understand my pain,
Yes, I hope you'll not be so rough,
"Wish that day comes soon enough."
Babe, I felt warm things for you,
But your remarks—me they burned.
Babe, I had plans for the future,
But you, typical Y2K generation,
"Wish future existed for you too."
The future can be changed,
It can be accurately predicted.
Everyone was happy—everyone but you,
Babe, you should've told your mom beforehand,
"I don't want to waste my youth on the middle-aged man."
This is the futility of my feelings,
They don't matter, because I'm a man.
All my successes, they are insignificant,
They are engulfed in the quality of being effervescent,
"For there are many more younger timely successful men."
Nobody reads any of my novels,
I may have went through a lot.
But I'm turning 34 in 36 days,
I've missed the bus, I'm late.
"And nothing else matters."
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
My HP Poem #2028
©Atul Kaushal