She liked earrings, that were far too golden.
She liked more of fresh air and someone holding,
All her insecurities inside as treasure.
She wanted to travel to Paris with the one she'd call her own,
Make money and eradicate all ego,
Because hers was the one in shambles.
Bergen, Paris, and a little bit of Berlin,
Stockholm, Karachi with more of Siachen.
But I was the one who'd fall behind,
While all I could think about was,
How her face crumbled, when I said I liked her,
Just the way she was, her eyes seemed incredibly
Sparkling with joy and I remember now,
This isn't the first I'm thinking of her.
She liked enduring, liked murals and drawings,
Liked sketches and blinding lights on the wall.
She liked all the times I told her I loved her,
But why does she not even know me anymore?
Stoically speaking, if she's who I'll be dreaming,
As if she was right here standing right next to me.
Rhetorically speaking, her eyes are enchanting,
But then again kinda wish they'd shoot bullets at me.
I feel no agony inside this chamber of mine I call my chest.
My heart is greedy, seeking dopamine.
But I can't find pride in me re-reading her letters,
It hurts as if God, couldn't foretell,
If the apocalypse was found in our chatter.
But her lips held me on, as a bee to its pollen,
Now my heart's broken and ego all swollen.
But she's an angel.
She's an angel.
I am the devil to my own act.
But she's the only person I want back.
1:53 AM | 5th August, 2022.
:)
YOU ARE READING
Collapsar.
Poetry"Collapsar" the third published collection of mine. The collection talks about love, and how physically painful some non-existent things are, that we call likes and dislikes. @SaturnAlvi_ on Twitter. Hope you like this one. Thanks a ton.
