One Pathetic Little Heart

Black and white photographs

Hanging on the wall, behind me,

Dance at the company

Of sheer curtains.

Fresh coffee rings on the table

Cuddle with the lacquer

crying for my attention.

The chandelier wonder

At the brightness of daylight,

And my little heart

Wonders at the lies I heard.

I feel nauseous at how I

Put up with all those lies.

I'm just so tired of the notion

of truth.

what a pathetic little heart!

What naivety and vulnerability has

Consumed you.

You made me think I own

the autumn,

That I can have him all for myself

In my private abode.

That spurious affection was

Afterall nothing but a lie,

And my foolish heart

created fake scenarios,

with every word of Autumn,

who would give a peck on the neck,

With a pat on the back.

What a pathetic little heart!

You never understood

What seasons meant,

You never realized they belong to

each other.

You found it amusing to be with fall,

In his private party,

for you came early with excitement.

And just like that,

when autumn left,

leaving the leaves and me behind,

You still lingered around his home,

Unable to free from the hangover

and intoxicated by the leftovers.

What more it takes for you to

Come to senses?

How long does it take to make you sober?

What spell should I chant to wake you up?

Please wake up and walk one step forward,

My pathetic little heart!

A. C

Comments

Returning Souvenirs

You say you can only offer friendship for my love, I say l don't want it. I want love, love in big forms, love that fills every atom around me, Love that challenges every equation. I thought you are the one, the one with whom they would define people. I'm just fine to ask you to return everything, Everything that I gave as souvenirs of my love, Which you received as a friend. Starting from my starings and nights waiting for your responses. I turned to be someone I was not, for you, I spent my time, analysing and making hypotheses on you. So return my brain cells used for that, the blood that rushed to my veins, Every time I saw you. I want my health and thoughts that I wasted for you, The souvenirs of my love. I have murdered my love for you, One fine night, I have buried the carcass of my love In the gardens of hopelessly wandering ghosts. The...

Dear Gretta

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 you...

The Ugly Duckling!

I was the ugly duckling you don't know. I built my own shelter inside my shell. I schemed it with hopes and dreams. But never had I knew that the shell has to be broken, Never had I tried. At times I heard someone knocking at my shell. Knock knock. But I didn't mind open. I kept on looking at my illuminated dreams and hopes. I feared the collapse of them with the shell opening. I sharpened my ears and listened to the voices outside. I heard someone laughing at me , someone sympathising, yet another sobbing. None minded to break my shell. I was comfortable and cozy inside , I slept tight. But they said I lacked something. What was it? I didn't know. Day by day the hopes and dreams increased. I should find space to occupy some more. At times I bullied myself. And made my shell more strong. I longed to see the world outside, But something prevented me and the shell was still closed. They called me ugly, coward, and many more names, my shel...

THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

Search This Blog