THIS IS NO POEM.




He sends same song to other women
and I thought I was the special one..
All his words plagiarised and I thought
they were written afresh for me and me only..
Marx was his favourite name and
now I know he didnt mean it..
We shared similar philosophy but
his was farther from practise..
I always hated poems for he used
to send me zillions of them..
people stare in rage when I say
I trust no love and forevers ever again
Little they know I am scared to lose and
cant bear it again..
Women are dark continents like some thinkers say,  for we bear things in heart that your hard muscles rarely understand..
He used abbreviations when I speak details,
I thought he is a man of few words but nope thats all he had to say..
He said he bears empathy but that's only where I got tricked..
He talked like a teacher who kept an eye on what I read and I do not encourage an entry as such to my home library..
I stopped penning poems at 19 when they looked like a page from my diary..
But today the cacti I picked from the garden with him gave its first sprout and I found his grey hair in my book,
my study table looks like a tragic love museum and I have an exam tomorrow..
All those chats and screenshots are my new souvenirs, this is no great lesson that, from my grand-dad, dad and the other guy from highschool I trust no men..
I wish I could run off to mountains or places with no internet..
now this is not a poem I know its only words piled up finding no proper places to stay..
I am sorry I made you read this for I have no personal counsellor and I need help and therapy which I still fail to admit..
stop asking me to inhale and exhale for breathing is all I do because your hard muscles rarely understand things women bear in heart..!

/04-09-2018/Tuesday.

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