The boy who couldn’t love.

He’s scared I feel, scared to feel the same emotions once again, for the past has shattered his heart.

You can get close to him, see his smile, kiss his lips, hug him goodbye, but you’d never be close enough,

to see the tiredness in his rheumy eyes, that haven’t rested in a while.

to feel that his hugs arent home, they’re just weary arms holding you light,

That his kisses are just a way to distract his overthinking mind, he never smiles when you kiss him back.

For maybe he misses the one, whom he loved, in the past, maybe his last.

He searches for her pieces in others he meets, he smiles at them, tucks that extra piece of hair, gazes at them with the same curiousity, yet his heart, doesn’t agree.

He tells me he has moved on, but can one truly move on from true love? Forget their melodious voice, their breathtaking smile,and oh their expressive eyes?

He shows them how well he could love, if he could ever feel that, he withdraws himself whenever they try to get closer to him, for his heart aches to be free, to be one, with the girl of his dreams.

Maybe he is a amazing liar, he knows how to hide his true feelings and act like they don’t matter to him, when in fact he still prays for her at night,. Believes in destiny, prays for her happiness, prays that she is happy and all right.

And that if she’s the one who’s meant to be, he can wait then, because that’s what people do when they are in love, they wait.

And to the outside world, he tags himself as someone who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself.

He’s been hurt in the past,

And now he’s scared.

But will he do anything about it?

I don’t know.

But I do know,

He wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, another heartbreak, the pain, the betrayal, the various hues of one sided love, he’ll once again go back to his cave and never come back his usual self.

Oh I do hope, that he finds someone who doesn’t leave his side and who loves him and who cherishes his goofy smile.

Poem 51#

I didn’t know what I’d write today,

For hasn’t life become so mundane?

So monotonous, like the clock,

At every interval it ticks and tocks

Prompts me, it’s alive today.

I wake up to my mom’s atypical voice,

The news broadcast, tallies the death tolls,

The uneasy cooker keeps fretting too,

With each whistle, it gets louder and louder,

Until it’s left to cool at its place.

Dad works on his laptop grey,

With his tea cup beside his ashtrays,

His weary files are out again,

He enters the data,

fiercely stabs the fatigued keys,

Oh this damn old laptop, types ‘he’ as ‘eeee’

Sweety then chirps a loud meow to me,

Oh! she’s awake and is famished

She wants to eat the loaf of bread.

Along with the her favourite peanut butter

And chocolate spread.

Alas this short poem comes to an end,

For sweety’s wrath is inescapable,

When she hasn’t been fed.

PS: Sweety is my 10 year old baby parrot.

And still I rise. (Poem for the day)

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

– Maya Angelou.

Hey everyone!

So I came across this amazing poem written by American poet, storyteller Maya Angelou.

I really loved this poem, I thought I’d share it with you as well. Hope you like the message she wishes to convey!

Thank you so much for reading ♥️

Poem 50#

She remembers crying late that night
Praying for dad, searching for him among the gloomy skies.
Her mother handling her a tiny gas lamp,
Empty it felt, weak it was, to survive the night.

Yet she waited for him silently,
Her stomach beseeched her dad,
He had promised her, they’d both eat dinner together,
Then he’d read the Princess and the knight.

She protected that perishing light,
Kept praying to the God unknown,
With weak words and trembling hands.
Just please let daddy be all right’.

And oh, he was all right,
he bought the frigid winds alongside,
Entered abode and gusted in,

Her dying light, fell right into her sight.

But did he care?

She asks herself the same thing, every night.

Poem 49#

They ask me how I feel nowadays,
I tell them,
Like the full moon, in a sombre sky
Surrounded by the stars and the grey clouds,
Solus, all night.

But he still happy and whole, they object

At what cost? I ask

They never reply.

Poem 48#

They all love the red rose,
Tell me,
They are allured by his aura so bright.
His soft petals, they adore,
It’s vibrant hue, they match with their core.
But his thorns they pluck aside.
For it pins the wound, they wish to ignore.

Yet I can’t stop loving his thorns,
The sweet pain,
It makes my numb heart, alive.

I hide him away from the world, undisclosed.
He rests,
In between the crevices of my grim diary,
One filled with dried ink and lost hope.

Mum told me,
That one day I shall throw him out of my sight,
Will stop loving it’s thorns.
Stop checking up on him.
In time, he will die.

Yet everytime I try to keep the rose away from me,
I feel like the naive bird,
Who flutters in the direction unknown,
Until her debilitated heart can no more explore,
It aches to go home,to her abode.

Mum found my diary, tonight,
She threw him away
Out of her sight.
For she said
It was
for the best,my child.

And now,

We both die,

Little by little,

Under the moon’s glint light.