Picture Source: Pinterest

She doesn’t cry anymore.
She doesn’t scream or vent her heart out.

She doesn’t do anything,
That could relieve the heart of the burden it carries,
All the time.

She wants the heart to tire itself out,
To get choked on its own tragic feelings,
To fall short of breath, coughing up bloody memories.

She wants herself to get cleansed,
But all she ends up doing is,
Waging a lost war with herself.

She has been left nothing but like a corpse,
A breathing and walking zombie.


Picture Source: Pinterest

Picture Source: Pinterest

She thought of ways.
There must be some to sort out the mess.
The distance and the time didn’t matter,
She firmly believed.

She loved Him always,
And Time really wasn’t anything.
It was only His silence and lack of effort on his part,
That made Her realise,

No ways of the world can make someone feel.

Not at least what She still felt,
And He too had felt,

Once upon a time.


Picture Courtesy: Pinterest

Picture Courtesy: Pinterest

She missed writing.
She missed writing poems,
To bleed her heart out into them.

She missed writing stories,
To create perfect lives unlike Hers.
She saw no point writing them anymore, you see.

Everything was an illusion, after all.
Emotions were nothing,
But only keepsakes, meant to be locked.

Lives can be anything but perfect.
No story can have any happy ending.
Only surviving and breathing.


Picture Source: Internet

Picture Source: Internet

I miss Him when I walk,
On the streets we had treaded on.

I miss Him when I eat,
At the restaurants we ate at.

I miss Him when I hear a song,
Songs which appealed to him and which did not.

I miss Him when I’m happy,
His sadness used to dilute my happiness once.

I miss Him when I’m sad,
His absence making its presence felt.

For He is a part of Me,
I miss him as I miss Me.


Source: Internet

Picture Source: Internet

He said, it was not done.
It was not done, to keep him in the dark.
Of all that was up and happening.

I smiled and thought of all the other times.
All those times I didn’t get a reply.
The times I’d waited out, an endless lonely wait.


Let him suit himself, smirked the brain.
He was your closest one and you hurt him, cried the heart.
While the brain-heart war raged on,
Something felt wet on the cheeks.

Wiping the stray tear that had slipped quite unceremoniously,
I smiled.
Look who’s hurting yet again, I mused.


It was not done, I sighed.
Really. Not. Done.



Sometimes She mused.

She mused whether she’d asked too much of Him.

But all She had wanted, was to be close to Him.

To want just a little piece of his time.

A little share of his companionship.


Had that been too much to ask?



Sometimes I miss You.
I miss you so terribly sometimes,
That I wish I could run to you.
I wish I could run to you and say to you all those things,
All those things that I want to tell you.
But then, I remember.

I remember who now you are,
And how busy you are…
And then I smile and shrug.
For you are happier that way,
And I’m happy for you anyway.
But then,

I miss you even more.
In times like this, even more terribly.