It’s not very often
yet just enough,
when my tongue glides
elegantly so,
To put ballet to shame;
Its rhythm
sings poems
rich with lore, lure, and lies.
Lies
have only proven kind to the truth,
until they are silenced;
No sword kills
half as gory
as the one forged
behind the veil of secrets.
It’s not very often
yet just enough,
when hearts don’t waltz in love
just like they are known to-
rather,
they run to dig a scar
deep into each other.
How unfortunate
is love supposed to be
to have fallen prey
to its very own flames?
There are times,
when I lose hope;
I lose hope on the slim occasion
of ever being able to hold my lover’s hand,
and smile to my truth,
not to mask my miseries.
And hope,
no matter how powerful,
often loses me;
I happen to walk down
the prettiest of dark aisles
ever known to my feet.
The day before was beautiful;
I saw you basking in the joy of our story.
The very next Sun saw us
drawing swords to the most tender parts of our souls.
Today,
we fought like we hadn’t ever loved.
I will wait for silences to dawn on the morrow;
A silence long-awaited;
One that we had betrothed our peace to-
I wish we hadn’t!
– Gauri Walecha
Kisses, I wish for you.
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WOW! is all I can say.
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Regretted commitment which turned sour. Good poem
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