🍁 Your luggage lies by the door in my mind,
Packed and unpacked countless times,
Now or never, it’s officially been long,
You’re gone and the meaning of life is empty,
Empty like a politicians address to people and if I could,
I’d beg you to come back,
But you left before today even arrived!
The careless gaze of your eyes elucidate everything,
The house is empty without you and your voice,
Except the echoes of regret,
Resonating across the hallway as I run and plead for you to return,
You ignore like always, but this time it seemed different,
The coldness in your stare fled you away,
Nothing but bitterness, rage and hatred remained,
It’s not your fault! you exclaimed
but, it was I the one who you cut down,
That stare of yours that went on out of sight,
Down the road and out of town
like you were already running away,
Catching a taxi, changing your story!
It’s been half my life and it’s been just a day since we met,
And you made me yours,
How can I imagine my life
without my only constant beside me?
Maybe the only way is when you know you have no worth or meaning anymore,
They’re already over you, halfway down the road,
Smoking up, cutting the strings attached and inhaling the first breath of freedom,
Maybe they never wanted to be,
Maybe it never existed or meant to exist,
But, what they needed and wanted were what served their interest only,
Nothing else,
When they left, they swept all the feelings and memories up,
Like fallen leaves in Autumn. 🍁
MK's Quill 
Well! A politicians address to people is never empty, it is always filled with promises and false hopes. Yet whats gone is gone, you cannot yearn to beg love from people who do not care about your feelings and emotions. The autom leaves fall for something, listen to the secret song of nature when they fall. The tales may add fall of a story but beginning of another journey. Stay put and stay focused, real love is waiting for you, just allow it to reach you.
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I assure you this was just random poetry and nothing depicting my actual feelings or state of life.
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I can still feel the agony and I do not see it random. I confess to whatever I write is not random, not a single word.
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I repeat I assure you this was not for me it was someone else’s pain :). I’m a stone cold person thank you 🙂
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I assure you a stone cold cannot be a poet.
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You need to broaden your horizon mate. You have one infront of you and I don’t need to justify that!
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And what you know about horizons, oceans in my eyes never dried. Besides poetry is for those who feel it, absorb it and have the capability to convey it. You said you are stone cold so for me as a poet that does not justify the norm in poetry at least. Other than good luck …..
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Thank you so much. I actually assure you I turn stone cold if shit happens at my end. I do have softness locked up in me and herd of feelings but I know how to keep my nerves stiff. Good luck to you too Rana!
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