Featured: Wattpad Poetry Feb 2022
My times spent having conversations about life, longing and love.....with myself.
In the company of solitude, I attempted to pen down a few lines on a range of emotions and experiences with a simple aim to revisit t...
I don't miss you, I don't even need to. See, I am busy writing stories; Reading stories of others' stories. Stories of how to win your love back.
I don't miss those evening walks, Can't remember your warm hands, How you would start by first casually touching my fingers, And then let me hold your hand. That you liked to be held gently. Huh! you think, I really care?
And your blue eyes, I don't even remember how they looked, Maybe you blinked them really slow. Like a butterfly idle on a flower. Colour of the ocean! - is that what I said, Crazy, things people say in love. Thank god, I am so out of you.
I don't even have your old messages or our memories stored as photographs. I deleted them all, so I won't remember you. What I am doing is just browsing through the gallery, To see, if I missed deleting any.
How did you sound? I really don't care now, Though I am quite sure, none on my music library, sound anywhere like you. But, who is even comparing?
I think your lips were a soft pink, This, for sure, I don't care. It's just that a flower bloomed in my garden, And strangely, looks like you. Well, even smells like you. Of Course, I won't tell you, I water the plant every day, and even named it after you. Hey, it was the name I liked, No way, it's anything to do with you.
I bumped into a girl today, She flicked her hair, just like you, She said 'uff' - just as you did, The way she moved few strands of her hair behind her ear, Was it something you did? She, like you, had a little dimple too. Whatever, I don't care.
Its been days, many days, I honestly don't even remember you, I am so busy you know, Working, working, working, Trying to r....u....n, a...w...a...y from you.
But, nights..... ......they are different. Oh! it's just a little insomnia, a few sleepless nights since you left. Has it been a year? who cares! I know, it will go too, Just like you.
And this poem, I write it again and again, In red, blue, green, and pink, I hope you don't read it, There is nothing in it, about you.
Its strange, I really don't miss you.
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