I Bleed Words Sometimes

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What is Love?

Goa

Six. Love is knowing he cares even though sometimes he fails to tell or show.

Five. Love is knowing his embrace holds the power to heal every wound this world can cause.

Four. Love is knowing he will strive to make me smile. No. Matter. What.

Three. Love is looking into his eyes and seeing the compassion, the tenderness and the yearning.

Two. Love is being able to be me, unapologetically and still knowing he wouldn’t judge, or call out names. He will try to make me the best that I can be.

And one. Love is knowing the good and the bad within me and yet sticking around for 6 years.

PS: You never visit my blog or read my poems, so here’s me getting you to do both. Happy 6 Ady, and thanks for all the joys, sadness, craziness, laughter all these years.

You Deserve It

Veronica Ebert.

When you end up harming

All those you loved,

And somehow leaving

Everything you once had.

To decay.

Because selfishness is a disease.

Spreading through your whole being,

Eating away at your skin

Leaving you with a core, void and lonely.

And you look back

Only to see their faces fading

And you try hard to draw in every last piece of that picture

To keep as memory and to weep it all out

when the time comes.

But you can’t.

Your selfishness has taken away even the memory of a beautiful life you once had.

You deserve it.

Poor World

Sitting at the bar, alone, you begin to wonder even you don’t like to be with yourself.
Poor world.

Failing Completely

Édouard Boubat

She fell in love. From the moment they first argued and she saw herself losing. She lost to no one and yet, here she was falling and failing completely. not knowing what hit her. Love. May be.

The sweet sting of losing yourself to someone, the rope slipping through your fingers and the deep valley below calling out to you like a hungry lover. Hah! she was falling, she was failing completely.

The seemingly everlasting nights, welcoming the sun light like a mother embracing a child after a long day at school. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t lay awake without having him traverse her thoughts, to and fro. she was falling, my friend, she was failing completely, not knowing what hit her.

Love, that’s what.
 Édouard Boubat

Come, Ruin Me

My Nemesis,

In how many ways can you break my heart?

You surely know more than one.

And how many times can you stomp it sore?

You surely can do more.

How many times can you beat it blue?

Till my heart bleeds dry,

Until I forget you?

Herbert List

Video Games

typewriter poem

A Gift No Joy Can Bring

Brett Walker

Sometimes sadness fills you up and the emptiness vanishes,

You’re friends with the wounding silence,

And tears do not seem like something you shed out of mere hope

That once this ordeal passes by, you’ll be fine.

But tears turn into the despondence of the one who has given up all hope,

And is no longer anxious, no longer worried, hence no longer concerned about the sorrow

Because, sometimes when sadness fills you, you do not feel hollow anymore,

And that’s a beautiful gift even joy can’t give.

It Takes Nothing

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It takes nothing…

It takes nothing for me to lose myself in you,

It takes nothing for me to melt away in your hold,

It takes nothing for me to be mesmerised by your sweet, velvet voice,

It takes nothing.

It takes nothing for me to go from loving you to despising your every breath,

It takes nothing for me to go from having you as my universe to shredding it to pieces,

It takes nothing for me to go from worshiping you to hating your every goddamn word,

It takes nothing.

You see… my love,

It takes nothing for me to go from being overjoyed by this life to being miserable and wanting it to end.

It really takes nothing.

I danced with joy in the rain today and then it saddened me.

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Detached

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I feel distant,
Removed,
As though, I do not belong.
Worse, I never did!

Love shouldn’t feel like that, should it?
Is it me running away?
Or are the waves receding?
I’m left utterly despondent.

I fear abandonment.
I fear helplessness.
I fear being me.
I fear.
And fear makes us do all sorts of crazy things.

Something I’m not

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I can let you go,
Cut you off like a useless limb,
Part ways with the most essential for my being.
And I’ll survive.
Boy, not because I can,
Because I have to.

You see, ego is that magic potion which will bring the dead to life,
It will suffocate and then bury with dignity,
But it will never leave.

So yes, my darling,
I love you,
I want you,
But I don’t need you.
I never will.

I will survive.
I will survive the cuts
The bruises
The poison
The ache

But I will survive

And I don’t mind being broken
I mind being something I’m not.

Akshay Iyer

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