I'll hide behind a smile.
Write a poem perhaps
about love and pain.
And if someone asks,
I'll tell them —
it isn't about you.
I'll smile that smile,
become one of those
who've learnt to lie,
I'll put on a mask.
And I'll say—
I've never been in love.
I might cry as words
tumble onto paper.
As loneliness and pain
ebb away with the ink
and the shaky lines of
a poem writ in tears.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~
YOU ARE READING
Window pain
PoetryThis book is but a humble attempt at encapsulating life and all its flavours. It is an ode to the sad days and melancholy nights. For grief that stays alive even after years have passed. Musings of longings and dreams of escape. And a protest agai...
