Hollow footsteps in an empty apartment An old record player singing its last days He lights a candle across the dark hallway No cure for the darkness that steadily creeps in the empty corners of the heart He sits on the cold balcony floor His mind takes him on different roads Today the road goes to his favourite memory The day he met the love of his life Love at first sight as he recalls They met in the art class Both painters of dreams Two roses walking side by side Blooming in each other’s presence Laughing amidst the butterflies But the circle of luck keeps on turning And one rose decayed before its time Succumbing to the cancer spreading in its roots Leaving the other rose alone Under the gray sky of grief And now that rose spends his days Remembering the fragrance of his lover Sinking in memories of the autumn sunlight Sitting in the balcony, moving towards the past Dreaming of being with his beloved again While she awaits in the Garden of Eden.
It is terrifying to watch things end. To watch everything and everyone slowly go their separate ways. It’s difficult to process it all in a single moment. The grief of growing up comes in stages. You watch the present slowly morph into the past in front of your eyes. Tears of separation fall on the ground, and all the beautiful and painful memories dissolve within the walls of your mind. But you have to realise that it’s all a part of life. You need to accept the changes and look ahead with curiosity. A path full of endless possibilities awaits you. So go ahead and pack your bags full of courage and hope. It’s time to look out for the next adventure.
I keep waiting for you like an idiot. The days go by, and I just keep on waiting. My heart feels like a burning candle that just wants to see you for one last time before it completely melts away. It’s so clear that you don’t care, and that makes me hate myself even more because I just can’t move on like you did. I can’t bury the past like you did. The flood of memories drowns me deeper each day. I don’t know what I’m hoping for. It’s not like an invisible knot will bring you back to me. But still, I keep on waiting….and my heart keeps burning and melting.
What happens to us as we get older? Why do we become so unfamiliar with happiness? Why does everything feel so done and dusted? Why does the light of being alive leave our eyes? Why does our soul decay with time? Yesterday I looked at some of my old photographs. I looked so happy. Today I looked at myself in the mirror. I almost didn’t recognize my own face. The light in my eyes still shines but it’s slowly fading away. I’m terrified of growing up. Terrified of watching my heart die. Terrified of the ticking clock that watches it all and doesn’t even stop to shed tears at our tragedy.
Once again, I’m in the arms of a melancholic winter I rest my weary head softly on its chest Its cold blue heart starts to beat again Winter tells me tales of a tragic love I listen patiently to each and every word I would’ve cried but my tears are frozen Scars of heartbreak begin to ache again I wish to fall asleep, covered in a blanket of snow with flesh and feelings as numb as a stone The grey sky weeps as it quietly sees my soul falling like a lifeless leaf and gently melting into the winter itself.
Poetry speaks in its own language. It has a bold fearless voice that echoes in every corner of the world. Its not afraid to be seen naked, in its true natural form. Its not shackled by judgement of the mortal mind. It holds a higher power. It takes away the burdens of a heavy heart and provides a shelter from the silent battles we fight within ourselves. Poetry is its own creator. Writers are nothing, but a medium.
Be stubborn at times. The world has a loud mouth. People will always try to force their logic, views and opinions upon you. They will always try to overpower you and take control. They will always try to shift your life as per their vision. Remember, not everyone who stands beside you wants the best for you. That’s why you have to be stubborn.
You have to give importance to your own vision and dreams. Think for yourself. Make your own choices. At the end of the day, those choices will either work for you or they won’t. But at least you won’t regret living through decisions that were made by someone else. I’m not saying don’t take anyone’s advice or lend your ear to those you think are wise, do listen to them but always follow the path that you feel is right. Your journey needs to be your own. Enjoy every bit of it.
She looked so broken yesterday Surrounded by screaming silences, Trapped inside a suffocating void. Her tears were a river that ended in infinity. I wish I could take her suffering away Take away the conflicting thoughts And the storm of regrets swimming behind her eyes. I wish I could take her broken heart And tenderly rectify it like a bouquet. I hugged her tight, letting her know I’m here She looked at me and smiled, pretending that everything is fine. I gently kissed her forehead “I love you,” I softly whispered. “Your love gives me hope,” she whispered back.