THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

  My therapist told me I have a big heart.  Little did she know that how crowded it is.  How there is not enough space for another sane idea.  It seems that the weeds are having a good time here,  Feeding on the garbage around,  Dancing at the wreckage of walls.  There are rooms with sad songs that are played on loop,  Rooms with multi-storage facilities for miscellaneous memories,  The congested small ones have the happy pieces of cakes,  With donuts and cupcakes served alongside.  Just because I don't know how to flirt,  There are rooms where I have locked up my crushes, in the very posture, I want to imagine them,  It's funny how they are thinking of their actual lovers.  The huge pool with waters from the leaking walls are stored,  Sometimes gets gory with less amount of attention.  I also have wetlands where some dear ones from the past,  Struggle in the poison of patriarchy and misogyny,  To which I don't give a damn.  The flowers in the garden are dried out,  The gam

Smitten by you, I was ascending to heaven from hell,  I could not find any pill to cure my pounding heart,  My mind is cleaned with waters of your charms,  And I fell into something that I should not have.  Every time you spell my name, I'm taken to the land of passion again, after years.  Every time you say goodbye, I see our eyes locking,  Our pupils struggle with embarrassment from unspoken emotions.  Every time I catch you looking at me,  I feel stupid, and Every time you talk to me, I do compare it with others.  A trail of first things are happening with me when I think of you, and I get erased into the four-dimensional world of entanglement.  My feelings are opaque in your presence to force you to look at me,  But it becomes transparent in my loneliness,  And takes the form of full-time fledged smiles,  Hovering above my room with wings.  What have you done to me?  This cannot happen and I will not reveal my feelings,  Unless you give the right signal.  All the signals that I

  Dear Gretta,     Your songs are like a poem that was long forgotten, that gives a dejavu everytime I listen to it. It  reminds me of New York City where you felt alone, where you were ditched by Dave and where you found yourself through Dan. You were never ready to compromise, you  were fully conscious of what you were doing and never doubted your own instincts. Even when you felt a connection with Dan, you helped Violet to reconnect with him, bringing out the beautiful guitarist in her, which eventually got him back to his family. Yet you smiled for being the reason behind reuniting Dan with his family, you smiled even when you knew that this would leave you all alone again. You gave yourself truly into your songs that you could not tolerate the loss of its essence, the mere commercialization of it.  You breathed music, danced and walked with it. Even when you knew that those are fleeting moments, the moments in New York City where every song in your playlist gave meanings to every