This Isn’t The End 

‘You don’t speak much, and I’m running out of my stories now. You’re like my second diary, whatever I haven’t written in my journal I have told you’

She tried to show her anger for always being the one sharing her stories. 

But the ‘Ahaan’ after few days from him, made her fall all over again. 

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The Inevitable Goodbye 

You standing there with knife,

While I wait with my heart.

You’re not here to stay,

What so wrong in this day?

Take me tonight,

Hurt me twice,

Show no mercy,

Just look me in the eyes,

Our history is in my heart

And your lies in my cries.

These streets know our secrets, 

The radio still playing our song, 

The silver moon still smiles at us, 

Makes me wonder what went wrong.

I’ll feel the sweet loneliness, 

I might cry at night, 

But I promise, 

I’ll be alright.
Take my heart, 

Twist the knife, 

Time for the last show, 

The inevitable goodbye.

Baby, I’m ready 

I remember, 

The taste of your lips, 

The sparks when we touched, 

The way you made me feel, 

With my eyes wide shut. 
But now I’m here, 
With your picture in my hand, 

With your voice in my head, 

With tears in my eyes, 

Always searching for my shadow in the sky. 
Still hoping, 

That you’ll walk right in tonight.

You left me Torn

You always had different ways to tell me ‘I Love You’ in front of my parents. 

You always used to found the third way to give me those tingling pecks, when my mumma was not looking. 

How everything changed so much? 

Wen all this came to an end? 

I just want to dream again, 

Like the good old times before the storm. 

But I know it will never be same, 

Because the day you walked away you left me torn. 

Just my Luck! 

I was cautious 

I looked left and then I turned right

And there you were 

The glitter in your eyes calling my name.

You spread your arms

And I ran to my only hope

I fell into your arms 

As I take in your scent

And my fire start to burn. 

I wanted to speak

I tried to speak

But your soft lips moving in sync with mine

Didn’t let me.

It wasn’t fierce 

It wasn’t wild 

Until,

You took your free hand down, 

And further

Inside

Squeezing

Making me moan. 

This time, 

It was wild, 

It was passionate, 

Until, 

I woke up from my dream. 

Hide 

After six months he asked me “how I’m doing” I replied “fine” turning quickly the pages to hide the poetry my tears have written. 

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