I date for poetry, is that too cruel?
When some boys treat love like a game.
A quest of collecting hearts like jewel,
To loot a bunch is cool and few is lame.
When some girls treat boys like clothes,
An apparel to flaunt, a display.
Change attire when the time comes,
Who likes overworn togs anyway?
For me, boys are the knives I need,
The sweet blades of a sharp promise.
To stab my heart and make it bleed,
To drown me in perfect fantasies.
I mean, I'm doing the players a favor,
My heart is an item, come and get it.
The heartbreak is what I came for,
I am someone you can play with.
I feel bad for the hearts unmending,
For those who didn't come to play.
Even I, sometimes grow tired of playing,
Scars linger a little too long some days.
But this is a loveless generation anyway,
The Medieval for hopeless romantics.
So let me be ruthless in my own way,
Let me play the games with my own tricks.
YOU ARE READING
Mosaic Heart
Poetry"Unbroken but crystallized Into a million pieces - Behold! My heart." These are the pieces assembling my mosaic heart - some in the shape of sharp betrayal and jagged hopelessness; some in the shade of crimson lies and deep blue loneliness. They're...
