I'll accept love in its roughest form
I'll have it in moss birthed between concrete pavements
I'll accept it in the form of mud stains
In unravelled sweater threads
I will have love in any frame and state
I will have it in its rawest way
I will have it even at hell's gate
Beggars don't choose
I'm happy with yesterday's left over food
No exorcism helped to take apart the ghost in me of you
I linger with fading memories
My body as the momento of living
My yearning is fatal, it's killing me
I have hated myself everyday and again,
But when you looked this way
The thought was born that—
Even this soul could be smiled at
I'm disgusted by my wants
I'm disgusted by my remorse
It's become the norm to threaten my existence
On the kitchen knife, again I hang my sorry flesh
I'm so good at tying lies
When can I stop selling deceits
How do I tell you it was a disguise
Casted away from my family line
I fear I will melt from the heat of comfort
I'm used to candle-less feasts and lonely dinner
Everything I tried did nothing but hurt
The labyrinth of existing terrifies me
I am the graveyard where no flowers are born
I'm afraid to let you close enough to let our heartbeats sync
You'll discover the way to my thoughts in a blink
The web of my being is spun with-
the fibre of my evil
What if you dust my soul and make it bright
Open my box and-
Find nothing there is to want inside
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid words
Poetry"Is happiness really a myth". A collection of the most cherished pieces of my soul: my poems. The things I wrote when I loved, when I hated, when I raged, when I dared and when from reality, I escaped. My poems are a way for me to get away from the...
