Category: Poems

I often hear

love

Love, I often hear, with cascade of definitions placed before me, 

with the limited words, sometimes guilt, thrown towards me,

often forgotten, then suddenly, there you are before me, 

I bare the silence, then decide to break it, reminiscing the wrath that befalls me, 

What is love, I often ask,

for still, I feel like a novice, trying to unwrap the layers that console me. 

 

Love, sometimes difficult to explain, for we all have our little window, from which we see through to define what love is for you and how you choose to show it. 

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After all this .. 

After all this, she said it was time to let go,

I held my breath, clenched my fingers tightly, hoping I had been mistaken and it wasn’t going to be as so. 

‘Do you understand’ she whispered; I didn’t, not really, ‘no’. 

Where was it that I faltered or took the wrong turn; love was a bliss between us, what was it that made it turn cold. 

I hoped she would change her mind, I didn’t mind compromising! ‘I’ll do whatever you want me to, just don’t leave me .. I consoled’!

The eyes they say, never lie, and that’s when I saw it;

the love had died, she nodded in pity and looked so different, so cold ..

And then;

She left;

Without a word.

I knew, I had lost the war, 

But I never imagined for it to end, so abruptly, even though ‘ I still had so much to say to her’,

which was left untold. 

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Image rights belong to pininterest, I couldn’t find the exact author behind it. 

Unlovingly yours

mask

 

Remove thy mask, from the audience to your drama.

The sweet, bitter, brutal words you offer so loosely,

the bridge of trust you break, with no thought to the distances you create.

Loosen the charm from the public eye, they marvel at your attire, not knowing the inner side,

the confusion you extend to my shattered edged mind, and damaged bleeding soul,

the cuts, the bruises merged aside, go deeper than I mirror, deeper where my hidden voice resides.

Hover to the palpating organ, struggling to venture through my lifelines, it’s there; slowly fading, the love it once; held high.

 

 

Sobia

The Tide

Do I ask for too much,

If I’m asking for a little space .. 
To exhale the misunderstood feelings I harbor, 

To put them at bay.

To simply spend a little time with;  

me,

myself

and I. 

To know the storms that I create, turmoiling my inner side. 

To feel the sand between my fingers and rummage through it like it’s treasure. 

To sit in the rain and drown myself, unburdening the thunder and sorrow. 

To run on grass or the earth, just with my bare feet;

to feel it’s warmth, it’s cool, calm, collective nature, whilst I run to exhume the heat. 

To sit beside a silent shore and dip my feet to sense it,
It’s cold blue surface,

hiding a deeper tide than it actually mirrors. 

Do I ask for too much,

when I just want to spend some time,

with the trees, the sea, the sand, the sky, the sun, the birds, the rain, the storm, 

or even me.

For they seem to know me,
Understanding my silences with which I speak.

The pauses I take with hesitation, pondering with great length with the words I say, 

Do I ask for too much;

when I just want to be me.

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Image taken from Pinterest. 
Thank you for visiting. 

Palpitating Organ

When the pain descends to the inner depths and reaches to attach to the organ we call heart,

It’s not long after, like an adrenaline rush, it shifts with uneasiness, ready to erupt like a volcano. 

The remnants of its blazes, reaches like a knot in the throat, trying to swallow it quickly before they appear on the outer surface of my body. 

The eyes, I aim have been untouched and unsensed from the inner turmoils, keeping them dry, and viewing them to make sure they have been unchanged. 

No sadness.

No tears.

No Redness.

Until all alone, all gushes forth, pouring out, what I held; 

what I call pain. 

————————

Sobia 

Image copyrights belong to Esaxil from DeviantArt.com.