Skip to main content

Promise me.

Promise me not to wither away,
For you were once the object of my love.

I was smitten at first sight, but you never knew,
You were the one I yearned for secretly.

With familiarity, the magic spell broke,
I realized your vulnerability, your weaknesses. 

I stepped back. Perhaps it was a sham.
You ceased to charm me. 

With time, I started to loathe you.
Your presence annoyed me. 

But when you said,"I wish I were dead",
Something tugged my heart. I froze with fear.

I don't exactly know what holds me unto you,
Is it our affection or the thought of separation ?

In love, maybe, you never loved back.
In hatred, I fancy you are around, hating me back.


Promise me not to wither away,
For I want to be the object of your hatred.


Pic Courtesy:Google

Comments

Arv said…
Deep thoughts :)

Popular posts from this blog

WAITING FOR YOU

Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017 


I CANNOT REMEMBER MY MOTHER ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.


I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.


I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.