11 Water drops.
We both lie awake under the same night sky,
Even the moon wept at the impossibility of our love.
I touched the space beside me, it feels as empty as my heart.
You let the rain touch your fingers, which have gone numb from being apart.

I wonder when he will taste the betrayal on my tongue,
You wonder when she will ******* name on your lips.
In this haze the morning light hits me and I realize,
Tonight the rain was not just the clouds, but also two pairs of eyes.

Lock me up because my pants are showing my ankles and that's too much skin.
Lock me up because I stepped out and made the moon aware of my existence.
Lock me up because I am not the affianced bride of the boy I smiled at today.
Lock me up because my soul is stuck in this pathetic feminine body.
Lock me up because I committed the crime of applying the colour red to my lips.
Lock me up because I thought equality exists.
Lock me up because a bunch of highly intellectual men think that if they enter my body without my consent, it's my fault.
Go ahead lock me up.
Lock me up because I was born a girl, and I'll die a shameful death of a lady.

You asked me to write about you - something happy for a change,
About our shared miracle , but this request is strange.

You want me to smile, while I keep writing about sorrow,
You wanted jovial memories, not the love he used to ruthlessly borrow.

I cannot spin us into poetry, it is a feat too tough,
You anticipate soft verses, while my words are a bit too rough.

I even refuse to write about all the unforgettable scars I gave,
How I left them to burn - souls in no way you can save.
So instead of your love, I wish to lie about how they broke my heart,
Call me vindictive but it is the only way I fabricate art.

I'm empty because you are almost gone,
You're satiated because its you who has withdrawn.
I'm torn because you are everything I have got,
You're stitched up because that is something I'm not.

The last cigarette has been lit and your eyes bid me goodbye,
I held out my arms and you turned away in reply.
I will cut them off today and tie them with a chain,
Solely because you are never going to call them home again.

You knelt down, defeated with the black rose in your hand.
Your eyes surprised you with tears - her memories were a blur.
You pluck the petals - one at a time,
All the while muttering "She doesn't love me, but I do, more than he loves her "

Your body has fifteen permanent marks,
Most of them are tattoos, some of them are scars.

The marks weave a map - each one leading to a different lover,
The scars are the lost battles - broken medals and battered stars.

I navigated my way inside your walls in a subtle manner,
We fought about therapy and misadventure - our hearts never in agreement.

When my heart needed to be broken,
When others needed to be fixed.

When fear took over my thoughts, When love and lust had to be mixed.

When my memories started to fade,
When afternoons needed to be drowned in whiskey.

When waves of jealousy kissed the shore,
When continuing our adventure was way too risky.

You showed up just in time.

The thing about her is that she's too beautiful to be spun into metaphors, and yet the poets try.
She's royalty and elegance.
She's made of stardust and galaxies.
She's freedom, She's honesty.
She's not the clichéd red rose, but is a bouquet of rare orchids.
She's mystery and her eyes are wildly magical.
Her rage is a hurricane but she is as calm as the ocean.
She's carved from iron and she has felt the blazing sun.
She's an earthquake of miracles.
She's raw power.
She's art.
She defines imperfection in the perfect way possible.
She's all these metaphors in the body of a seventeen year old.
Now do you want the poets to stop?

Overcautious.
I am a vault, and you are the new lock keeper.

2. Overwhelmed.
You had me at first sight, your beauty and you charm.

3. Overjoyed.
You made me so ecstatic, you cannot possibly do any harm.

4. Oversight.
You failed to notice, I am flesh and blood, constructed of flaws.

5. Overgrown.
My love for you, and all the little things you do.

6. Overbearing.
I discovered this new side, you had buried it deep inside you.

7. Overused.
But ofcourse, those treacherous three words, the hollow I love you's.

8. Overstep.
The boundaries and limits, have been crossed way back.

9. Overprotective.
My walls are back up, and you have been pushed with the broken fragments of my past, way up above the rack.

10.
Oh this one came so slowly, after five painful months of ***** and three AM phone calls, to spill poetry that I would never show you, but it finally did come, leaving me so happy, when I finally got, Over you.

It's not my fault.
I've been hated and betrayed.
Judged and stabbed.
I'm not good with feelings.
With tears and blood - the price I've paid.
But you already knew that.
You said it anyways.
It wasn't based on facts.
It was just a thought.
Your apology was a million I love you's, as if reassuring yourself.
This isn't going to break us, this too shall pass.
But this is pretty big, even if it's the first time we've fought.
Your trust is broken, it lies shattered on the floor.
But you blame yourself, making sure I don't destroy myself.
You're putting a bandaid on a fractured heart,
In order to mend us, it is hurting me more.
But I already know this.
I let you do it anyways.