Writings of a Phobophobe.
A nostalgic scent
Of unwanted feelings and crying eyes;
Of unfulfilled dreams and hunger to succeed;
Of unfated soulmates and lingering touches;
Of unwritten poems and stashed thoughts.
The smell of haze
And a hazy future are synonyms.
A reminder of we’ve come far,
But not quite far enough.
Run away
From the world you loved,
They never understood your ways.
Fade away
From those dreams you had,
They won’t take off anyway.
And at times, I miss you.
I miss how we stumble out of clubs,
Young, intoxicated, and didn’t give a fuck.
I miss the way you say goodbye.
I saw from your eyes,
I know sometimes you lie.
You’ve always fancied me,
You’ve always thought about kissing me.
I feigned ignorance,
I wanted to see your persistence.
You said to me you’re always honest,
But no —
Just this one,
You never would want bluntness.
Sometimes you held my hand,
And I know you wanted to hug.
I could hear you resisting your heart,
I wished you went with your gut.
There were many things strangely accurate.
You were right about me,
But never believed in us.
The number of times —
I bit my lips wishing
Instead it was yours.
The number of times —
You held me up,
Instead of holding me close.
Each time we denied our hearts
From every chance of never being apart.
And still sometimes, I miss you so so much.
Everyone’s got their vice.
A gentlemanly swindler.
A high-rolling miser.
A family-driven chauvinist.
A romantic cheater.
A glamorous gold digger.
A kind sex addict.
A life-loving drug abuser.
A religious cultee.
What you would see;
Always half of what it is.
They ask to fight or to flee;
Perhaps just let it be.
Cash we seek;
Glory we chase,
But man, I’d tell you that’s just surface.
Even with all the success
But our hearts misplaced,
It’ll be real doom
No matter what we taste.
But that’s really just a peek
At the consequence we’ll face.
“We want happiness,”
And that’s all we say.
Look at us now —
Alive but dead.
What do we have now?
“Blindness to kindness,” I’d say.
Silently side by side,
We laid.
It was unspoken chemistry
In bed.
I wanted hugs,
You stayed.
Just long enough to get to
My head.
You drove to get us coffee
And bread.
It was me
You played.
You have nothing,
You said.
All that I wanted was you
Instead.
Your smile and kisses on my
Forehead.
You left then — your eyes
Were dead.
Each night I prayed, I plead and
I wept.
I wished we had been normal and went on
A date.
You never came back and I call that
Heart break.
Now all I remember is your charm that
I hate.
Can’t you see
You should let me be?
Before I flee,
Just set me free.
Held captive by twines of the city,
All we needed was our minds at liberty.
Brilliance is not a spark of wonder.
It is a consistent and persistent current that
One day gets strong enough to cause a sunder.
Worn down facade,
Wall paint like feelings — they fade.
Her happiness,
He thwarted.
Her birthday,
He disregarded.
He wrote her a card,
But there was no cake.
He thought long and hard,
And said,
“It’s time to part —
A decision I’ve made.”
She’s scarred,
For 4 years less than a decade.
So dead in her heart,
But alive in her head.
She only speaks
Of what she fears.
He only seeks
What he wants to hear.
Darkness forgets
Whatever held dear.
Perhaps when the sun rises
It’s when it all turns clear.
