After months
My love, my friend came back..

Drowned in depression
I was for months.
I felt little less
But what a surprise!

The feeling of love
The gift of love..
Got back my laughter,
Got back the tight hug
Which I used to get,
Creating more memories.
But something was missing,
I guess my soul
Which was unable
To believe the reality!

My friend for whom I waited for months, came back today. I was shocked to see him after months. It was a delight to see him. But couldn't express the joy as I am still unable to believe that he came back..

Darling, don't let him affect you.
Don't let him do that.

If you saw dirt on your shoe
You wouldn't
Spend the whole day
Staring at it.
You'd get a cloth,
Wipe it off and
Throw it away.


A self-talk I had after getting angered by the thought of my ex and the things I tolerated.

Before I went to bed tonight
I just had to let you know
That my love for you is strong
And will continuously grow

Before I went to bed tonight
I thought that you should hear
That every moment we spent together
I hold so very dear

Before I went to bed tonight
I had you on my mind
I thought of things you've done for me
Things from a heart so kind

I hope this poem makes you happy
If only for awhile
But I'd gladly write a million
Just to see you smile

I know this sounds crazy
Just like I've lost my head
But I had to let you know
Before I went to bed

I mourned my childhood; that daydreamin' boy of the past walking in the woods with friends.
Sweet child that knew no bounds.
This laughing kid with his head in the clouds.
Darn the dreams that flew away; given my chance, in that past I would stay.
A eulogy for the electric being I once was; no current was ever strong enough to hold forever.

I stare at you
To my eyes you are foreign
You've changed so much
I have finally forgotten
Who you used to be

Years in the making
Yet days in the breaking
You've finally faded away

Time has come between us
Too many days you spent
Angrily humming out a tune of broken friendship
Too long you leant on a discord
Letting closeness lose its grip

My photographs are the only reminder
That you weren't always this way
This moment I see a stranger
A different person everyday
But in them I see my friend
It's in the memories she stays

We sat
Me and him
A table between us
Its funny how we weren't
Even next to one another yet
I felt closer than I ever
Had before

We shared
A million memories
Childhood's present and past
Danced vividly, alive in his and my
Nostalgically saturated eyes
I thoughtlessly giggled
Carelessly happy

He spoke
Out words the
Colour of a beautiful rainbow
I'd never saw in him before
He smiled and for the
First time in years
I felt safe.

Dinner time chats.

I remember being a young boy
who was afraid of stormy days,
I knew that a sudden gust of wind
could come and take you away.

I promised that I would never let go
and to keep you within my sight,
but I didn't give you the freedom to soar
and often pulled too tight;

so one autumn day, you broke away,
I stood outside until spring,
but the boy who went out that windy day
became a man holding onto a string.

“I used to dream about love”
Six words that have suddenly hit me so hard
A nostalgic feeling overwhelms me
Of the days that were easy and planned out
I dreamt of finding love in a crowd of people
I would bump into some stranger
We would hit it off and share a lingering and tender kiss
However, as I grow older,
Those dreams slowly begin to fade
The reality of it all is there is no stranger
There is no lingering and tender kiss
There is no love
Just tears and that nostalgic feeling

Remember that feeling,
When you pick at a scab.
The fleshy white skin that forms,
over the red underneath.

A thin layer that protects
From elements,
as you heal.

But I'm,
Left staring,
Mouth-wide open,  at the blood,
Coagulating silence.

I wonder,
This time,
Why did you come back?
To pick at my just healed wounds?
I'm sorry,
All that's left is ash.
The charcoal still burning,
Red-orange flames.
Dying down,
Burning out.
This ash,
It covers me,
From head to toe.

I look up at the tenements and wonder
how many of them are like me.
Hidden by roofs and walls and windows, sitting, chasing their
butterflies of silent obsessions as they
threaten to fly too close to the net.
Do they too struggle with eternity?

I go by my old apartment, by the college, and don't hear my voice at the door. No more my reflection in the glass bulb. Whoever's inside there now, I hope they fill the space better than I did -- hope they're remembering to laugh once a day.

When I get home I make coffee.
I add creamer and sugar.
I stir it until they disappear.

Quick write
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