There are three types of lies,
You're honing each one as time flies,
I have been intimate with each one of yours.
The first is the simplest lie,
You kept repeating it time and again,
I lost count of the times you said, "I love you."
The second is the **** lie,
This one is more complex and deceitful,
Even you lost count of saying, "I love you forever."
And the third one is called the Statistics,
As afterwards, you kept blaming its demise on me,
Many times I heard, "Countless times you forgot about me."
I never intended to blow the whistle on you,
But last night you said it on call that I kept forgetting,
I'd have forgotten my virginity or its loss before my accident,
But one thing I simply could not have ever forgotten,
I had become someone else from your own name.
But I hear a faint melody from a distant place,
Maybe a mermaid sings it softly for me,
Or who knows another barmaid!
Scared to death I am of love,
Neither can I bear another betrayal,
Nor can my heart now be a loveless barren.
7 Paragraphs, 23 lines of a broken dream.
My HP Poem #1081
©Atul Kaushal
