Nov 2013
I.
I know you do not want to be known
as the teary-eyed girl with an upside down smile
always your arms covered
like unhappy things resided beneath the bright coloured sleeves
like these vibrant distractions could hide the secrets
you feared so that would come to light someday
and your sorrow so heavy they slowed your footsteps, making your thoughts an overweight baggage you have been forced to drag along, so suffocating you'd wake up with a tear streaked face while the faint ticking of the clock tells you that you
are nowhere near dawn
the house has long fallen asleep but you,
why are you awake
what kept you from sleeping
is the silence too overwhelming to bear
or your thoughts too deafening to ignore
the house has long fallen asleep but you,
you dont know whether to laugh
or to cry
II.
Mother never told you about things that were more dangerous than knives, that there were things that burned you more than stoves and matches, things that do not have sharp edges, like doe eyed boys with a laugh like the sound leaves you'd find at the pavement being rustled by the occasional breeze in June, both the breeze and his voice on top of your list of the unexpected. Mother never told you that the greater danger were the things that do not hold an absolute form, like the way your doe eyed boy kissed you, for the very first time one summer night in June. He held you so tightly. And every kiss never felt the same, and you loved every one of them nevertheless. He left eventually. And you were left with a mess of feelings and a pile of broken heart pieces you tried so hard to piece back into one but the fractured pieces didnt seem to fit back in properly. Those were the things that kept you up for nights, the things school never prepared you for. But I want you to know you are more than the girl with sad eyes standing in the corner of a washed up family photograph, and I know you will love again, you would fall to pieces and drink yourself senseless and scream at the stars, but I know you will love again.
I know you do not want to be known
as the teary-eyed girl with an upside down smile
always your arms covered
like unhappy things resided beneath the bright coloured sleeves
like these vibrant distractions could hide the secrets
you feared so that would come to light someday
and your sorrow so heavy they slowed your footsteps, making your thoughts an overweight baggage you have been forced to drag along, so suffocating you'd wake up with a tear streaked face while the faint ticking of the clock tells you that you
are nowhere near dawn
the house has long fallen asleep but you,
why are you awake
what kept you from sleeping
is the silence too overwhelming to bear
or your thoughts too deafening to ignore
the house has long fallen asleep but you,
you dont know whether to laugh
or to cry
II.
Mother never told you about things that were more dangerous than knives, that there were things that burned you more than stoves and matches, things that do not have sharp edges, like doe eyed boys with a laugh like the sound leaves you'd find at the pavement being rustled by the occasional breeze in June, both the breeze and his voice on top of your list of the unexpected. Mother never told you that the greater danger were the things that do not hold an absolute form, like the way your doe eyed boy kissed you, for the very first time one summer night in June. He held you so tightly. And every kiss never felt the same, and you loved every one of them nevertheless. He left eventually. And you were left with a mess of feelings and a pile of broken heart pieces you tried so hard to piece back into one but the fractured pieces didnt seem to fit back in properly. Those were the things that kept you up for nights, the things school never prepared you for. But I want you to know you are more than the girl with sad eyes standing in the corner of a washed up family photograph, and I know you will love again, you would fall to pieces and drink yourself senseless and scream at the stars, but I know you will love again.
