Every time I see lights like that of night's cities bright,
I would always like to put some in a jar,
and cover it, like fireflies.
And when I hear a strum of a guitar
like that of a somber tone,
I would like to collect the hue - I only knew;
of my childhood days,
of your bashful smiles in the pouring rain,
swirling eddies,
one afternoon.
I like to think of those innocent eyes
after we both went home from school.
Those giggles I wish I have forgotten, all along
There came your turn, I started scowling.
Yet you still managed to get my soul stooped down,
I was terrified
I was tricked
I couldn't talk, as if my heart was strangled with every thrust only you can invent.
This was a quarter of hell,
and my nights were bones of forgotten being,
like that of a museum, I don't want to get into
And my days were a mixture of regrets and honey,
somber dews and caffeine, I got hooked.
And of this music when you open your mouth,
like that of every steady tick of your watch -
I remember you.
I let the fireflies fly.
YOU ARE READING
The Moon I Become and other Poems
PoetryA collection of poems dedicated to the undesirable parts of oneself told from the first-person point of view. Unfavorable situations are also reckoned thus becoming disliking of the self-being. Some of these poems also narrated self-pity and self-h...
