It’s all in the attic,
Your pictures,
Your gifts,
Your memories,
Our memories.
The attic that explodes
With a single thought of you.
It’s all in the attic,
Your pictures,
Your gifts,
Your memories,
Our memories.
The attic that explodes
With a single thought of you.
Not my type
Then Best friends for life,
Transitioning or merely showing?
Them, omg them,
To being one of them,
Growing another face, are we?
Your standpoint sublime,
My Outlook mostly bland,
Not dissing merely asking,
In your head, are you fine?
They dug those holes,
They dug them deep,
First went my colours,
Then went my dreams,
They filled them
With expectations to the brim.
I tell myself to hold on tight,
Just one more hole and it will all be right,
But what when the holes are dug around your core,
Just one more hole and you will bore.
Standing here staring,
Waiting for his senses to kick in.
Humans are intelligent beings or so I believed,
Each blow bulldozing my hopes and beliefs.
Done with me,
Quickly moving to the next,
On me the bitterness dawns,
I judged him wrong,
At the cost of my life,
For a building of sorts.
Becoming an entangled mess,
With one end going into loops
Made of harsh words, spite,
And the twisted curls of their egos,
While the other end acting stubborn,
Merely fastening those knots.
It’s difficult to unravel this mess some exclaim,
Cut the crap out to find a new end some explain,
Staying put while the other end retraces Its’ steps, is the best recourse, my heart claims.
You came,
You saw,
You conquered.
…………………………..
And then you left.
You were never meant to leave,
I was never meant to be conquered,
This was never meant to happen.
The Church bells chimed,
As one entered in black while the other entered in white,
Both of their husbands waiting at the altar.
That spark in your eyes when I’d do something cute,
That lopsided smile when I’d make out of myself a fool,
That hand on my waist to let me know you’re there,
I could say I miss those, but I don’t,
For it’ll always be etched in my soul.
I’ve never liked cliches,
Never consciously written one either,
But what can I say of those
That you’ve unwittingly introduced?!
I like them, I hate them,
I hate how I like them,
I’ve fallen for your clichés.
Heck! This sounds like one.
I can’t tell if you’ll stay
And usher those any further,
What I can tell is when you’re gone,
I’ll never go back to disliking those rather.