#confusions
I am not ready for a pet….
some mornings I wake up
jumping out of my bed.
I stare at the sun for too long through the open windows.
But there are mornings,
when I don't wake up at all… .
My body,too heavy and the ceiling, too nice.
No, I am not ready for a pet…
If I used to love you and we don't talk anymore,you probably don't know this.
I tend to love too hard and break too much.
If another life leaves me on my own,
my body might survive…
But my soul, it is covered in bruises, I am afraid that there is no space for mending….
So, No, I am not ready for a pet…..
when I look at those puppy eyes,
my brain starts a race….
A race that I cannot finish….
Cause each time I sprint,
I fall back on my knees and I see a picture,
A picture of me…
So far away holding on,
to an empty leash… .
Jun 17, 2021
Jun 17, 2021 at 1:03 AM UTC
Dilemmas and confusions
Unsettled and unsolved
Instead of hault
Become the driving force
Give shape to the unexplored
Let excitement to continue
Let life to happen
in not just one way!
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 10:29 PM UTC
I understand, everything is give & take.
But, how much must one give?
Give, in order to recieve.
I understand, everything is give & take.
But, whats there to measure?
For ones trash, could be the others treasure.
I understand, its give and take.
But how much, must i give ?
Give, in order to recieve.
I could give you, my everything.
But for you, it could mean nothing.
I understand, its give and take.
But what is it, that you take?
When you dont know, what you want.
You could give me, your everything.
But for me, it could mean nothing.
I understand, everything is give & take.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 5:45 AM UTC
when I thought it was the beginning,
you ran away thinking it was the end.
sometimes I feel like I know you so well,
sometimes you are just so hard to understand.
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC
.
Rain fell in commotions—
The birds would have none of it,
The moon bellowed in ghostly white,
Faced in the sprite, ringing indifference
Of low fading stars, trees in posted dark
Scratched the grasslands of the fallen
Firmaments and the small creatures
That are holed up in days, scurried
With the creep of night and moan
Of oceans slide, mangled clouds
Clutched the murky burn of sky
And smallish eyes everywhen
Shuddered in the frosts
Of a shuttering rose.
.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
Why must God make me succumb to his wishes? Making me believe that the forgery of this pen means no thing. Maybe he just wants me to see the irony. No inspiration can be brought from his message. Yet, the desolation cannot describe the isolation in my needs. You won't succeed tonight, but you'll overcome his wishes to succumb. Thus, freeing your being, if seeing is believing.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 2:04 AM UTC
In all the time we’ve wandered,
spent landing from impossible heights;
dancing blind, in the dark, being fumbled and prodded
for feelings and requests,
the games we laugh at, wasted on self-confidence and
possession
I have much more than yours,
intoxicated on the thriving pulse of fearless flight,
we crash into opened arms,
not noticing the extent of the fall.
A wandering soul, I shall be.
Picking up sand on empty beaches,
spending time thinking of the footsteps,
surely imprinted on my trail I left behind.
You came and went.
And so you came and went.
Tumbling across my path,
like that cooling hot flush brought with salty ocean and rain.
Wandering past empty mountains,
looking over my shoulder to notice the
mortal statues I made of you,
and you,
and you,
my tended garden of people and places and things;
of darkness and light;
of scraped shells and glorious feathered wings;
of sickly love songs and hearts blazed;
of lonely nights waiting up for you,
and all the times you let me down.
Wandering alone and free,
the purple skies above offering sacred slumber.
I remain awake, watching stone eyes move
on me,
fixating on the bumps in the road,
tremors and falls in gentle dips unexpected
under my feet;
like you were.
Another came past, the smell of cut roses and
blushes minus a make-up brush;
shaking in the middle of your field of games,
playing rough and *****
feeding ego and primal instincts,
bent backwards and underneath,
an empty canvas for marred drawing;
it was ****** while it lasted,
but I turned to stone long before
you came back on your knees.
And all the time I’ve wandered this lonely escape,
I come to wonder at all my marvels,
the things that made you fall faintly for me,
and shrines of you,
and you, and you.
Whether we were meant to collect an exhibition
of second best loves;
successive wilting romances burnt on scorching days.
Whether we were meant to learn by breaking hearts;
making cold remnants left to mildew in the past.
Whether we make do with second best,
as close to first yet farther still;
because we don’t know what best is.
We know when it tumbles down,
like a broken house,
but to see it gone is much too late.
Safer to say yes to second best,
than risk the cold wandering left for us alone.
In all the times we’ve spent wandering.
And I’m still wandering.
Empty beaches and purple skies,
long past.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 2:16 AM UTC
Rain fell in commotions—
The birds would have none of it,
The moon bellowed in ghostly white,
Faced in the sprite, ringing indifference
Of low fading stars, trees in posted dark
Scratched the grasslands of the fallen
Firmaments and the small creatures
That are holed up in days, scurried
With the creep of night and moan
Of oceans slide, mangled clouds
Clutched the murky burn of sky
And smallish eyes everywhen
Shuddered in the frosts
Of a shuttering rose.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
So now you're gone with happiness and independence.
I'm stuck with baggy eyes and these cliche *** romantic comedies.
From time to time I stare at clocks and think about what he had that I didn't.
I wear watches now, not bracelets.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC