“Emptied”


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(c) Pinterest Photo.
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She went out into the world–
Excited and ripe.
The universe was up for her picking
And every novel item made her smile.
Dancing her way
Through crevices and alleyways,
She acknowledged each gaping bloom
And gawking gecko–
Anxious to be friends with all.
Then one gecko approached her,
Armed with an elfish grin on his face.
She said, “Hi!”
With all the charm and wit, about her.
They became close and he toured her
All throughout the garden–
Showing her the shrouded interstices
Of this Newfoundland of hers.
The captivating lizard dazzled her
With everything there was.
They gamboled about, in oblivion–
Him, cajoling her to enjoy;
Her, relishing every morsel of his sphere.
What she didn’t fathom
Was that each thing came with a price.
He was of that complex realm
And she was merely a new distraction–
A marvelous divertissement, he deduced.
She took in all sights and tastes,
Careless and free, at last.
“Ah! This is life!” she announced.
A few weeks of vacuous pleasures
And the gecko got weary of her zest.
He was ready to move on–
She was evolving into a pesty baggage.
He threw her away and vanished.
She woke up, disoriented and alone.
The sheltered lass wept–
Inveigled to find him, yet again.
For years, she travelled all over the kingdom–
Peering into every face,
Desiring each to be his.
But, existence wasn’t always for the naive.
Torn and crestfallen,
She went back to her cage.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have
Ventured out of this hutch.
Now, I’m more depressed than before!”
She lamented.
The world is a wondrous dominion;
But, it isn’t for the innocent and the meek.

©Diwa

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“Murder Or Suicide?”


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Written by Prince Imtiyaz.
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“He” betrayed the innocent “She”,
Unexpectedly broken “She” soon enough died.

Did “She” die due to the shattered heart,
Or due to the withered emotions that “She” did hide.

How did “She” lose her bonny life,
Was it a Murder or was it a Suicide?

-Sparos Spirito

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“Cared To Nothing”


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that was her problem:
she cared, too much.
she cared, a lot, for others
that it killed her, a little,
each time they didn’t
reciprocate her concern–
until she cared her last.
now, she’s different.
she doesn’t care, anymore.
like a seed, gone dry,
nothing affects her–
nothing, at all.

–Diwa

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“Of Vampires And Fiends”


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her heart bled with scarlet tears.
she couldn’t even breathe.
her love was poured forth
for a traitorous soul.
he has made himself known,
at last.

nothing can really cease
the nonstop flow of the fetid
evidence, of betrayal–
an innocent heart
that offered its purest nectar
to a deceitful vampire,
whose only intent was to defile her.

too late did she discover
that he never intended
to replenish what he took.
his only goal was to feed on her;
and, leave her dying;
after emptying her, of her soul.

in search of another victim,
he prowls the night, anew–
forgetting the heart
that bled, to death, for him.
on the hunt for the next
luscious maiden, he goes.

–Diwa

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“To The Man Who Said He Loved Me”


Yes, I probably shouldn’t be writing this anymore. I know I should simply write you off my life and move on. You don’t deserve this letter because you don’t even deserve any of my time — you never did and you never will. I know that all too well now. Continue reading “To The Man Who Said He Loved Me”

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