“Now I have begun,
one too many poems,
with your name,
and for the first time,
this poem is absent of your name,
and for the first time,
my heart hasn't sunk this deep,
my hands,
will never be the same,
after writing so many letters,
that will you never come across,
my pen ink has run dry,
so has my hopes,
because,
I used to write about,
how beautiful it would be,
if you looked at me,
the way I looked at you,
and last week,
I saw your eyes,
they were beautiful,
but you were looking,
for something,
for someone else,
you were looking for someone to make your heart race,
and oh dear,
I was not the one,
and I know your all time favorite movie,
I know various things about you,
I even knew,
I wasn’t going to be yours,
not anytime soon,
but you see love is an ocean,
no one really has seen all the depths of it,
and your heart may race at the sight of another,
but those eyes,
those ******* beautiful eyes,
will always be carved,
onto this silly heart of mine,”

“I want the sun,
to rise in the east,
and set in the west,
I want to be the best,
at my worst,
I want to be the oceans,
and the land,
I want to be the skies,
and the birds,
and the relation is simple,
you see,
I want people to smile at me,
but not look me in the eyes,
I want people to talk to me,
but only with their mouths,
not hearts,
I want to adore the flowers,
on the sidewalk,
alone,
but sometimes,
I wish someone was beside me,
to tell me,
how there is still more beauty to come,
I want to be left alone,
yet I crave attention,
and it’s not as easy,
as it seems,
because solitude is a choice,
but the skies look so beautiful today,
friendship is a choice,
but the skies look beautiful today,
no sure certainty of tomorrow,
and as much as I want to be left alone,
I want this heart to beat for others too.”

“The floorboards still creak your name,
what has it been?,
3 days,
since you left me,
since you took me whole,
and left,
your touch still lingers,
somewhere on my body,
somewhere i can feel it,
your touch electrifies my body,
especially when someone else touches me,
i think it’s been 3 days 2 hours,
exactly,
since i got the call,
quotes,
your favorite quotes written on my forehead,
is it too obvious,
i have become a walking tragedy,
my sadness is an anchor that i bring along,
everywhere i go,
it’s been 3 days 2 hours 8 minutes,
since i heard the news,
“he’s gone”,
were those words,
what are words,
just incoherent sounds that line together,
look it’s 8pm,
yet here i am screaming your name,
are you really gone,
i ask the skies,
all i see is grey,
baby,
how could you do this to me,
we were in this together,
forever,
forever i said,
and you would say,
“nothing lasts forever”,
i miss your voice,
****,
is that my 7th cup of coffee,
i only drink alcohol with you remember,
drunk nights,
sober kisses,
ah you can’t be gone,
you can’t be,
**** i love you so much,
but you’re gone,
and i am shattered,
all my pieces are on the ground,
i can see them,
but i am not going to fix myself no more,
people may see me,
being broken and sad,
but lovers will see me,
as someone who was loved,
and that’s all i need,
people to know i was loved,
and no one else could kiss me like you did.”

“if your first love fails,
it’s not the last they say,
but i see my hands,
and i only see the past,
these same hands,
were the ones,
that wrote your name on pieces of paper,
hoping the ink would vaporize,
but your essence would still be present,
these are the same hands,
that used to shield myself from the mirrors,
whenever you came around,
these were the same hands,
that used to dream of holding yours,
interlocking in evident spaces,
but time passes,
and so does my hopes,
my hands stop dreaming,
and they start facing,
what’s real,
what’s possible,
my hands wipe away tears only,
on many lonely nights,
now tell me,
my first failed love might not have been the last,
oh but nothing hurts as much,
and some nights my hands wake me up,
just to remind me of something that i have lost,
that wasn’t even mine to begin with.”

“When he told me he loved me,
I asked him why,
he replied,
without the slightest hesitation,
about the color of my eyes,
without the slightest hesitation,
I bid him goodbye,
because growing up,
I saw my father leave my house for work,
whispering in my mother ears,
“you’re beautiful”,
before he left,
and that’s what my mother believed she was,
beautiful,
growing up,
she told me,
that she hoped,
I would find a husband caring as my father,
who would tell me that I am beautiful,
and love me with all his heart,
and all I could think was,
is,
is that all I am?,
some toy piece in society,
for some man to love,
am i just,
appeal in a guy’s life,
a beautiful mother,
a life partner but I am under home maintenance category,
despite my dad’s unconditional love for my mother,
and hers for him,
my mother’s dream of becoming a doctor,
were shattered when she was 20,
so growing up,
I promised myself,
I would be more than a pair of ******* beautiful eyes,
graceful posture,
amazing hair,
and nice voice,
I would be woman,
powerful and independent,
I would be human,
ambitious and hard-working,
so if you start your poem with my name,
please do reconsider,
what you’re going to say.”

"

My mind,
is not some machine,
to go back in time,
to erase your memory.

My hands,
are not some tools,
for you to use,
and for you to leave,
hanging,
waiting for your warmth,
craving for your touch.

My eyes,
are not toys,
for you to play around with,
and name,
they’re not your favorite things in the world,
they’re not a temporary distraction either.

My first love,
was you,
and like everything new,
I wanted it to last,
and I wrote down your name,
at least thirty two times down,
to assure myself,
this wouldn’t hurt,
but look where we are now,
here I am penning down my thoughts,
about you,
and how things were,
as if your first love was easy to forget,
who ever said that,
my father once told me,
the girl he loved when he was seven,
still never left his dreams,
he told me,
you will find someone new,
and you will love them,
till time ran out,
but you wouldn’t forgot,
your first love,
neither,
would you forget their touch,
nor their painful absence,
and I might be young,
and years to come,
I might find someone new,
but forgetting you,
would still be one of the tasks,
I would clumsily right on the grocery list,
even when I am sixty-two.

”

“So much of sadness reeks in this soul,
it has become tired of living in this home,
now tell me,
do you want to feel something more,
or drown in the sounds,
of blood rushing through your veins,
I have thought about it,
empty bottles,
and sleepless nights,
with pen ink spilled on the floor,
and my room door open,
will happiness just walk through it,
look at the state I am in,
and leave me like that,
leave me to what I want to be,
because I have chosen not to feel,
I have chosen to be empty and numb,
to plaster a smile on my face,
and drink away nights alone,
now don’t tell me this is not the way to live life,
you know I don’t drink,
the only thing that makes me drunk,
is the thought of my life going somewhere someday,
don’t tell me,
to get out there and reach out for happiness,
I have been in the oblivion for so ******* long,
I don’t even believe there’s light anymore,
don’t tell me,
I look like I haven’t slept in days,
because I did last night,
but my dreams,
were of nothing,
but me walking through the streets,
now live one day,
like me aimlessly,
so that when you re-read this poem,
you will understand what I am trying to say,
try reading this with the lights off,
to feel something in your heart,
to feel anything at all.”