He didn’t want me at my best, so I gave him my worst
He didn’t want me or even ***, so I won’t be his first

Fading into the background in the caverns
The caverns of this fleeting beautiful person’s mind
Alone again, but still longing for a time
Where I could be wanted and I was able to want

Nor a version of who I am fabricated
Loved, desired, and celebrated

Without makeup and hours toiling on my face
Nor having to beg anyone with a pulse to stay
Let alone this soul who will slowly go away

Lord, why have you forsaken me?
Leading me to love one i cannot,
left without a home or bed

Jubilant Lord, why have you made me woeful?
Judas I have embodied, selling out myself,
jade eyes reflecting blankly

Lover, may my heart not utter prayers to
lie with those who don’t want me,
but may I lay with you, O My God

शब्द वापरून वाक्य बनवली जातात,
वाक्य वापरून मनातील भाव मांडले जातात.
एकेकाळी मी ज्यांच्याशी तासंतास बोलायचो,
ते आजकाल फक्त कामासाठी phone करतात.

Priority नाही आहे मी कोणाची,
फक्त एक option म्हणून उरलोय आता.
आयुष्याच्या झाडाची टवटवीत फुलं
कोमेजलेली दिसतात येताजाता.

आजकाल काही share केलं जात नाही,
WhatsApp ग्रुप्सला कधी add केलं जात नाही.
लोक भरपूर आहेत आजूबाजूला –
मित्र तर नाहीत, पण आठवणी उरल्यात काही.

मला मान्य आहे की मी आहे एक failure,
नाही जमल्या मला काही गोष्टी करायला.
आयुष्याच्या या सांडलेल्या कचऱ्याला
मला एकट्यालाच लागेल भरायला.

unadded, exiled from the kingdom
i think back to his enchanting features
and weep bitterly, proclaiming:
oh, woe is me, a person exiled from
the city walls which guards against barbarians

You didn't ask me to.
But I threw my heart at you.
I stroked your ego and put you on a pedestal.
I bore my soul to you sharing the blood ink from my pen.
I was patient with your triggers and wounded words.
I saw in you magnificence that you didn't see in yourself.
I threw my heart at you
even though you didn't ask me to.
And like a ninja
you deflected it
boomeranging it back to me
slapping me in my face.
I pick up my blocked heart from the ground.
It's a little scratched and dented
but I open up my chest and stick it back in place.
Won't be long before I look for the next unsuspecting victim
to get blindsided
by my heart
spinning toward them like a Six Pointed Chinese Throwing Star.

I’ll sit front and center,
on a cold metal chair,
fog machine blowing in my face,
sound too loud,
lights too bright,
just to see you on stage.

I will choke back my tears,
and instead scream your name.
I won’t sink back in my chair,
I will stand and applaud,
even when I want to die,
because I know you’d do it for me.

I won’t complain about too-late rehearsals,
or copying my homework,
or staying with the cast and not me.
I’m not part of it all,
not even a techie,
so you can stop loving me for the season.

But I will never stop loving you.

I will bring you flowers every night,
stand by the cast door,
hug you tight,
and hold you as you cry
about it being the last show,
until you do it all over again.

I will support your dreams,
even when they are mine too,
even when I want to be on that stage,
so bad that it hurts to breathe
when I see it.
But it’s your spotlight,
so I will stand back,
and let you take it.

I will give you the rides
and the late night dinners.
I  will help you with lines,
and listen to you sing.
I will give you the flowers,
and bake you the cookies,
because I love you,
and when you are happy,
I will pretend to be.

i dream of
running my hands through
his black curls
but his heart is obsidian
and i am an iron pickaxe