There are reasons I
cannot see; maybe, I never will
and it's alright that I'm on
black lists and gun-point dreams, being
stared at like
I am wrong,
because I remember the first day I
gave you my heart, under an eve night-sky
like Sarsi velvet, I was stared at
like I was right, and the hurt
seems worth it, now; yours
and mine.
My tears
now cost a lot less than
where we had started,
so my new resolution is to
cry less, because we don't have to wait until a
New Year to make things
better.
You were a thousand bedtime stories
and thriller movies, romantic
comedies that made me cry and yet,
laugh, haunting scenes that left me
screaming inside.
I can write two, threeforever pages about
what I feel and
who I am but
who am I?
So many things like silent glances
and knowing some things just
won't change no matter
how many alphabets I switch and new languages I create
and how many jeans I wear per day I still
will never erase the scars
across every line of my body
because you etch on me like
constant reminders of who I
have become.
I still cannot shut my eyes because nightmares
are not my favourite dreams, so I take the nights
to wish on rainbows that might land
on my eyelashes
when the tears
have dried.
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