Of you
Of your voice
Of your lies
Of your fake smile
Of your fake love
And when I see you with her
After you called to say your flight was late
I know I’m tired
Of my love for you

Love is like taxis
They're everywhere when you don't need it
But nowhere to be found when you do

Sometimes
You can be surrounded by people
And still feel lonely
…
Sometimes
You can be with people you love
And still feel lonely
…
I just
am

I put my mind at ease,
     banishing all things vile,
What good are memories
     that don't inspire a smile?

But now and then my heart
     forgets to lock the door,
And when the portals part,
     he's standing there once more

Of course, I can't deny
     him entry --- I'm too weak,
And yes, I know I'll cry
     with every lie he'll speak

It seems I never learned
     to let go of his hand,
Not all bridges were burned,
      love's flame might yet be fanned

O, foolish heart of mine,
     the truth is plain to see:
When love makes one resign
      itself to misery,
And every sleepless night
      is caused by love's deceit,
Can you ignore the Light
      of Truth there at your feet?

The time is long past due
      to set his memory free,
Let love's promise renew,
      let all sad feelings flee

Prepare the burial shroud,
      ensure the grave is deep,
Grieve one last time aloud . . .
     Now let the demons sleep!

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

The expendable existence.
That uncomfortable rat on your skin.
The cut in your gums that bleeds when you chew.

The last feasible member to fit on an ascending elevator.
Warm.
Hot.
Itching.

The spinach in your teeth.
The tear in your jeans located too close to “there”
The treacherous unzipped jean fiasco.

That crumb on your face.
Where is it?
‘To the left’
Is it gone?
‘A little more’
How ‘bout now?
‘Got it.’

The untied shoe.
The untucked shirt.
The eyelash stranded on your face.

The rainy wedding day.
The gold earring under the fridge.
The luggage thats flying to London instead of Zimbabwe.

These are the unwanted little honeybees of everyday being.
cracked mirrors, guitar-snapped strings,
welts of fire and third wheel things.

I come from namibia ,i come from botswana, i come from nigeria , i come from zimbabwe but um still an african , dont judge me about my culture, dont judge me about my race and dnt dare judge me about my colour,we.ve been born by mothers, africa is our motherland but why should i be judged?          Um a human like you, i live like u, i have a dream like you but why should i be judged? Imagine if its u being judge oh now u will say it wont happen, now u will say its wont be a pain,but i tell u its a pain living day to day , night to night wondering whats going to happen next,no one feel for u but only few... We all come from africa "so please dont judge me"