Stupid Cupid

Do you believe there’s a Cupid out somewhere?
I think of asking You.
But then, you wouldn’t understand,
And I’d have to translate it to your language,
And that’d take out all the fun.
Like all the other times, I had to explain to you,
Things you fail to grasp, being out of your reach.
(There’s a point till which I can bear,
But damn if it isn’t irritating!)
So instead, I ask myself.

Yes, I believe there is One,
Otherwise what could possibly explain this,
This outrageous, exasperating feeling,
Of being struck with an attraction.
A pull which goes just one-way round,
With no future in sight,
And feelings too surprisingly new to fight.

I cannot say to you all this,
You’d run away faster than Bolt,
Simply because it’s unbelievable! But hey,
I know that feeling too, right?
So instead I do things which my heart forces me to do,
Making my brain die premature death, multiple times in a day.
If not Cupid, what could possibly explain this?

I can still remember the moment it all happened,
Your back facing the balcony,
Your coat giving you the mysterious allure.
I’d doubled back to see who you are,
And there you were, unknown
But somehow known enough for me to gasp.
For you were just an ordinary guy,
Nowhere near to my preferences.
Yet, yet I tried hard to find the reason,
That made my heart race to see you,
To want to talk to you,
Most importantly, for you to accept me,
For you to like me as I am.
But sigh! If only I could find any,
Oh Mon dieu, someone help me!

Often I have wondered, you know,
What it’d be like, to pursue you.
To chase you until you’re mine,
To break that ego of yours,
Boosting mine in the process of destruction.
But then, I remember who you are,
And despite it all, I don’t want to screw up,
Your already roughened heart.

So here’s what I’ve decided, my friend.
To purge myself of you in the sea,
To drown all these feelings for you,
As unnecessary as salt in anything sweet.
So here’s my eulogy to a surprising attraction,
Which is to die an early, too-soon painful death.
Here’s my tribute to Cupid,
Who turned out to be stupid enough to mess with Me.
And here’s to You, dear friend,
Listen, for I’m confessing to you.
I did like you, yes, believe me when I say that.
But not enough to let go of the past lessons I’ve learnt.
You see, I’m content with myself.
So I have to let you go, and thus,
Goodbye, my almost-happened love.

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On Love and Other Demons

It’s cold.
I remind myself of the chill that’s in the air,
But I don’t mind it.
I welcome it.
It relieves me to see that I can still feel.
That goosebumps faithfully show up,
Is a reminder that they’re there, existing just under the skin.
That they’re are still very much alive,
Like the night we had met.

It’s cold.
The November rains brought it in.
You used to love rains,
Maybe you still do, or that’s what you proclaim.
I look up at the swinging trees,
The red-tinged night sky,
They remind me of my won’t-cry-im-strong eyes,
Of the night we parted, for the last time.

It’s cold,
And I shiver involuntarily.
The body screams for warmth, any kind of warmth,
While my heart aches for body warmth,
Of a person who had once been mine.

It’s cold.
It’s been a long while I’ve felt anything else.
I welcome the chill that seeps in my veins,
I smile thinking even nature gets drunk,
On love and other demons.
I’m yet to decide what were you.
To Me, of Mine.

LIFELESS

The girl you see today,
Wasn’t the same before.
She used to be lively once,
When she didn’t need a reason to smile.
For she loved the sound of laughter,
The heady feeling of being full with joy.
But something happened to Her,
That made her carefree vibe die away.
Maybe that thing had a form,
A being who had hurt her somehow,
A human who had a habit of crushing hearts,
Just like he had crushed hers.
She used to smile once,
Openly and whole-heartedly.
What did you do to her to make her like this,
This lifeless being?

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GET UP!

Picture Source: Pinterest

You don’t feel good,

Things are haywire,

Life’s messy and so is your hair.

So what, GET UP!

 

Things aren’t as they should be,

Life’s just being unfair,

But that’s how it goes on and mostly will.

So what, GET UP!

 

You don’t have a love to cuddle up to,

You don’t wanna go on pointless dates,

You haven’t felt anything for the longest time as hell.

So what, GET UP!

 

You miss the person that you were,

You don’t like the one you are becoming,

But you just cannot go back and be the same as well.

So what, GET UP!

 

You think you’re broken,

You do a great job of disguising it often,

But you’re the only exclusive piece of gem.

You think you don’t have a life and just survive,

You think you’re losing your mind and heart at sight,

But baby, you are the best kind of mess.

You think you’re alone and forgotten,

You are tired of this world to fight with it often,

But then, you are The One.

 

So get up and sew that broken heart,

Remember to look in the mirror,

Whenever you need to be reminder,

Who you are, the Warrior of Light.

LOST GIRL

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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.

LEAVING YOU – #1

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.

MISSING YOU – 4

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.