And I waited for you
in the guilt of
Letting you go.
Now, I know
You're not here anymore.
I'm smiling in pain.
I wish I never met you

-

There are lovers,
Who love without being loved.

There is me,
Being so loved.
Still the hate in me
Sometimes makes
Me forget all of it.

-

There was a time,
I use to think,
Peace was making people around you happy,
Keeping them in love with you,
Doing all the good for them.

Peace actual is letting go the urge to happiness
In you.

-

Listened to all kind of songs
Nothing made me feel like
Your voice did

-

"The energy it took
To love at once,
Was the energy
I should have put
Into loving myself.

Because you didn't love
Until I left,
Left you and living.
Echoes of heart screamed,
But did you see the
Mountain of hurt in me?

You witnessed the
Shadows of me,
Leaving.
But did you searched
For my soul which
Was murdered by
Love long ago

I wish you were
Just a nightmare
Or just a thought
I could write and
Crumble the bits
Of every paper you're on".

-

...and today I saw him.

In one second,
I was the old me,
Who was in love with him,
Yearning for his glance,

In another friction of same moment
I knew it was all my delusion and nothing else at all.

There was fear, there was cries which had gone silent long ago,

Tears which hadn't shed yet.
There was a urge to just collapse
And live none of it all.

-

"Write happy poems," they said.

"My existence shall be in crisis if I do so; the poet in me was born melancholic, but with a heart of stone, a thoughtful disease plays with the depth of sense I have, hence, it does not die. Writing happy will be a lie. I can't believe myself," I thought.


"I will try," I replied.

-

Whatever it is,
What so ever is going on,
There is nothing I did for myself.

I did, for a career
For people,
I did everything
Nothing for myself.

-

The human affair of not being able to fully understand the humans they live their life by is the classic example of irony.
You may promise them your life, but not in any definite second you know about their lives at all.

-

I've grown up in gaps, in deficits, in lack.
Gaps of people, their inabilties to be present
In deficits of care, or to be there sometimes,
Their presence bothered more than the absence.
In lack, lack of the very need of human being

Love was more a burden than gesture,
it become a language for me to be silent.
For the sake of it, for the same being
in love for being loved.

Silence where not saying became a habit.
Putting words, am obstruction.

Habits that brought me far from myself.
Incubating a life that feels worthless for
In each while, while I'm alive.

-