“Used”
I used to say to myself
that the ones who left
would come back, feeling bereft
but they don’t always do so
and at times I seal the doors, on the go
I get mad
I get upset at the confusing tides
I baffle at the expectations set before me
they say “moving on is key”
honey, who told you that I am this forgiving?
Some nights, I hear my inner demons
I hear their laughter, the insane conversations
my mind drifts in and out
from light to dark
then I ask myself “ Am I crazy?”
Is it all that I am supposed to be?
I used to have the answers to blissful conundrums
now, I got nothing
nothing can mean hurtful
also nothing can mean beautiful.
I used to say that love is what I desire
that my soulmate is lusting for fire
passion burns, ignore your worries
hold his hands and happy you shall be!
after a little while, the hands become strange
they feel inadequate, even deranged
what’s next? a sublime kiss of exit
melancholic awkwardness permeating through his eyes
we can’t anymore sustain this despicable lie
so to our respective loneliness, we fly.
