It's 3 AM

And i keep trying to figure myself out


Ordinary questions...
things we all ask of ourselves everyday


But I guess I expected something a little more definite from myself


I keep remembering eyes

Different eyes, different looks of disdain, different continents, different faces, different genders

Broad spectrum of statistics

I wonder what exactly anyone is here for


I find it difficult to discern why are these people in my space?

It's so difficult to tell

Courtesy? Loneliness? Fascination? Routine? Misguided sense of doing good? Misguided sense of displacement? Some mid-life crisis? Need to be diverted? Curiousity?

Ah, it's just too difficult.


Why do you linger around?
Someone answer please.
Hey, its 3 AM here and I haven't been able to sleep in days.

We lost the time,
the hours,
minutes,
seconds,
that were once ours
those moments of time can never be traced,
they can never be replayed
were they ever there?
time doesn't care,
and we proved that right,
by showing the same,
we lacked the strength,
to allow our hearts to show its nakedness,
our love,
the feeling that once shone out like light day in and day out.
so we left,
we walked away locking away our hearts in chains,
to never open up again,
we walked away with bare hands,
bare hearts,
bare minds,
bare, hours, secs spent in vain.
we lost time for each other.

I could probably write a bunch of stanza's
With black letters and white background of metaphors and similies
I could use pretty words and figures of speech
And end with something ironic.
Or use lines that we've all heard before and try to pass it off as my own,
or write something that's all too vague.
But the truth is
All I'd really be writing about
Is the same old concept that's been written about in poetry for years
And the same feeling that's felt all across the world on a Saturday night when we are alone:
A little bored
Maybe even a little lonely
And a little desperate for a miracle.

The ability to write poetry is the ability to understand life
To know it's not always about being the best
That it's not always about who can do what
Poetry is emotion
It is the silent words that lurk in our minds
It is our unsaid weaknesses exploited to their full potential
Which then makes it our strengths
It is the bridge that connects us to the mortal world
It is the proof that we are human
That we can cry
That we can laugh
That we can have remorse...
To us poet it is so much then just words on a piece of paper
It is our heart and our pride
As poets we all have our reasons why we write
Because we all come from our different backgrounds
Some of us have lost sight of the light
Other bath in it
There are even some who sit upon the border because they can't make up their mind
But as poets we all have one thing in common
We write because we are not immortal
We write because poetry is our life
We write because  poetry is our hope
And if we didn't have it we'd all be in a different place
Most likely a place beyond darkness
Even if the reason we write is joy
What's the point of being happy if everyone else is not
So we write to share
That's what it means to be a poet

today i burnt everything
i burnt all my letters that started with your name
and all the suicide letters
full of empty promises
and i expected it to stop hurting
maybe next time
i'll burn the ashes

Simplicity in three little words
That I regurgitate so profusely
Words as free as soaring birds
Used by the brave and the mighty.

Three little words that two bodies would declare
Every so often when the heart so desires
Whispered lightly like the wind in your hair
Or shouted out loud like brimstone and fires.

These three little words shouldn't be taken very lightly
For in it lies the power to move, most regal a mountain
Squander not its meaning, until you have proven worthy
Misuse it not, until you've known for certain.

First word refers to the being of self
Third one suggests the existence of another
Middle binds the two like nails to a shelf
Middle defines the two as they're made for each other.

I've used these words many a time in the past
Then I know not, of it's sacred binding potency
I've learnt now through time that they would last
I've learnt this through a hidden path of discovery.

Now it's value stares me right in the eyes
Piercing through my mind, body and heart
Baring itself, shedding it's cloak of disguise
First time in my life, I saw a brand new start.

I am neither brave, nor am I mighty
I have felt it so great, I know it to be true
These words resonate with conviction within me
Clear echoes from my heart, it said, "I love you".