The love I had has been lost in me lately,
I don’t feel the breeze on my skin,
My eyes don’t sparkle at their smiles,
Nothing seems to have changed,
Still I feel something in me has died.
I savage the little things left,
Basking in the afternoon winter sun,
Kissing my cup of coffee a hello,
Romancing with the idea of love,
Pretending to do it all and still be real.
The murmurs scramble my ideas,
The more I listen, the more I fumble,
There is no vacancy in my heart,
But there is a longing that aches,
No scars, no marks, still a bit of me it takes.
On dew laden grass my mornings awake,
Everything was a dream, but I never slept.
The hours just passed by gazing stars,
They told their stories in a land too far.
No corners tossed, not sleep deprived,
The clock did change days, my hadn’t arrived.
I still hope that I find that love,
What I haven’t found in this world so large,
I pity those people who think they got their share,
The miseries of the ignorant don’t seem to fade.
Till the time I can’t be selflessly selfish again,
Till the time I can’t let go of my ego,
Till the time I can see the world burn and still hope for warmth,
How can love be a possible good start?
The souls dread the great romantic fallacy,
In falling in love with the idea of love,
For it was never meant to be so desirable.
It is thorny and stings your heart,
The pain they say is sweet,
What I know for sure is that words need not be always too sour.