“To The Man I Loved And Love”

(c) Pinterest Photo.
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Do you still remember me? Do you still recollect the instances we spent together? It’s been years since I’ve last spoken to you–yet, it feels like centuries ago.

We had such a beautiful relationship. Everyone thought we’d last forever. Remember how friends wouldn’t even dare sit beside us because they didn’t like sitting with two love birds who were too co-dependent on each other?

We were always together. One look–one blink and we knew what it meant. We had our own private language. We predicted a compatibility that’ll last through infinity.

In truth, I still dream about you. There are nights when I wake up with a heart, heavy with might-have-beens and a face, strewn with horrendous tears. For, how can I even forget the person who had such a hefty impact in my life? How can I forget the man who took care of my every need? How can I disregard the memories of the person who fought the whole bar just because some boy made a snide remark about me? How can I forget you who treated me like a queen?

You had to leave me for a bit. You said it was so you could save up for our future. I had no way of stopping your decision because, as always, you made the logical decisions for us. Besides, I trusted you a lot.

I had to work, as well, while you weren’t with me. I also needed to support myself and my loved ones. Yet, I never meant the distance between us to be permanent. You tried to contact me, regularly. I also tried to reach out, insistently. Until, I disappeared.

I cannot produce any worthwhile justification for why I vanished. I know that I made a grievous mistake. You see, I focused on working–on fixing my life. I had to re-learn being independent and being alone. I did all I can to be fine without you by my side.

Now, here I am, without you. I’ve been surviving on my own, not knowing what happened to you. There are days and nights when I still yearn for you. I’ve long accepted the fact that I shall never love anyone the way I loved you. I know I’ll never do.

But, I haven’t expected the excruciating longing to remain just as strong as that day I decided to leave. I believe you’re mad at me, even now. I dream of your anger–your flashing eyes and booming voice asking me why. I still wake up crying–your absence multiplied a thousandfold within my soul.

Knowing your temper, you’ve probably cursed me a million times for evanescing like that. Yet, I want you to know that I needed to do it–to stabilize my family’s situation. I needed to prioritize them that time. I hope that you’d find it in you to forgive me–maybe not today, but someday.

I’m not hoping for any kind of reunion. I know that what we had has ended for you the day I left–and that’ll haunt me for the rest of eternity. Because, I still love you–I’ll always do.

For, we can only have one shot at true love in this existence. And, woe to the person who dares to throw it away. I know–because I did.



“Smiles Are Waiting For You”

Written by Mitesh Sahu.
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Do you think your life is ruined
because of break up?
See yourself in a mirror and
smile doesn’t it look nice?
Observe that girl staring
at you in the class
who thinks you are a different guy than others?
Think about that friend
who starts giving you lectures when you are low.
Your dad’s face when they hug you.
Your siblings when they tease you.
Doesn’t it all look just perfect
and you are wasting it all
for a stupid break up? Damn!
You need to grow up.
A lot of smiles are waiting for you,
A lot.

–Day Dreamer


“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.



“Riding, Road Trips, Bikes, And Him”

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i ride through the village streets at night,
to clear my mind of ponders.
it helps to see the natural setting
that can interest me, to forget.

for i cannot find anything
to replace the repetitive thinking,
that has the same old you, as its king.
am i not through with you, yet?

cease the non-stop singing
that you keep doing inside my head;
or, the allusion to bikes and tires,
and the familiar whirring of an engine.

yet, i do the same things you do.
we have the same hobbies and habits.
the simple you and the simple me,
riding highways and liking trees.

sounds familiar, right?
same face, as well, sometimes;
and the ocean, the sandy beach.
the countryside, the roadtrips.

now, i go back inside the house
and head straight back, to my room.
i didn’t really solve anything.
i’m simply back to you, again.

i went out to forget you.
i came back with more of you.
will this ever stop then? no?
be gone, i say. now, i sound like a noob.



“Love Is Giving”

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although, they say he’s fine;
you know he isn’t–so, why pretend?
you know him well.
so, you can tell that losing
has never been his strongest point.
if you were to lessen your pride
and see the truth for once;
you’ll realize the fact
that he, like you, is human, too.
with that said, you need to accept
that he can be hurting–just like, you do.
now, does your pride matter more
than the knowledge that you can also
help soothe his pain?
you say you love him, so prove that now.
he needs a friend and not a foe.
forego your pain, for now.
be his friend–and do it well.
you love him, so that’s what it means.
loving is giving, despite the pain.



“The Writer”

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i shall write about your pain and mine;
our love and hate poured now in rhyme.
we come alive in the hearts and minds,
of men and women, who read my lines.

the stark reality of a love that can never be,
may now only be a reason and a source for me.
when random thoughts enter the dance
that my hands commence by chance.

the graces that a love–once pure–can now bestow,
are these emotive utterings that grow;
as i painfully write in poetry and prose.
a love forgotten comes alive–magnifies the loss.