Before I met you
I used to write
Poems that rhymed.
I used to walk
With my shoulders hunched
Before I saw you enter a room.
Before that day
I only used to stay up late
To get lost in the world of fiction.
I was least interested
In any form of social networking
Before I had your name and number.
I only listened to pop
Ignored the classics
Before I heard you.
These days, I listen to classics
Eagles and Floyd,
Because you love them.
I change my statuses
On social networking sites
More than often, to catch your eye.
I lay awake at night
Waiting for your texts,
And chatting with you the days I’m lucky.
These days, I walk with tall
Not with the same swagger as you,
But most importantly,
After I met you
My poems lost their rhyme.
Happy World Poetry Day, especially to all my muses who will never read my poems, but are the reason I write.
Its the first day of spring! Old news, I know, its all over Facebook and twitter. But don’t you think there’s good reason for this hype? Like it IS the first day of spring, and that just sounds so special. Its the beginning of another year, according to Nature’s calendar. Where I live, the cold winds are gone, the humid heat is back, exams are almost over, schools having end of final terms.
My first day of spring this year? It was a train wreck. I woke up to a busy Sunday, chased some dreams that aren’t mine, visited some people I’m supposed to know. Came home with the windows rolled down, wind ruffling my already untidy hair, headphones in my ear, eyes on my phone screen. Read some texts, not ones that were sent to me, but to someone else, and realised that nothing matters in the end. Nothing I do, nothing I say, will ever make this fine, ever make me good enough. And as the final blow, I flicked through the pages of an old Facebook account, not mine. Those things, these old posts, they should be banned.
But it doesn’t matter. Its 22:00, the day’s gone. My first day of spring turned out to be too autumn-ish, but how was yours? 🙂
Eager to know,
I often imagine us, how we sit by the lake, catching sun rays, happily counting our fingers, knowing all we need in life.
–Lines with Signs.
They say you are worthless, you never have and never will deserve my love, and sometimes at night, when the lights are long gone, I wonder if they are right. But in the morning , when I see you again, I don’t remember a single reason for not loving you. They say you are Narcissus, obsessed with your own self, selfish and oblivious to love coming from any other direction. They say I’m Echo, forever pining away for her “perfect” Narcissus, with no real life of her own. They say this story ends with me wasting away without your love and you drowning in your own vices. And I believe them. I know its true. But maybe I want to be Echo, maybe I want you to be Narcissus, just so that history carries our names together, binding them to each other in an inseparable bond. Maybe all I want is to be remembered, but only with you.
For the legend of Narcissus and Echo :http://www.echo.me.uk/legend.htm
This time, I’m being less patient. 😦
A Great Big World.
I’m not sure if its the right thing to do. I know its too soon and too late. I’m giving up. I wish I could be the one for you, but if you’re happy without me, so be it.