Clothes unpacked,
scrambled over bed,
bookmarks scattered over the table,
laptop hibernated,
A burger half eaten,
cigarettes butts in ashtray,
a bottle emptied
and only a single shoe turned,
Forget about writing,
someone had a night.
© Shashank Bhardwaj.
I have a hidden vendetta,
against all the memories you gave,
all the love we shared,
the kisses you stole,
the walks we had,
hand in hand,
now it is all brewing inside,
with rage and nothing else,
I have a hidden Vendetta,
for all beautiful things I had.
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I still remember the chilling wind,
when I stood without a jacket on,
having travelled a thousand miles,
to hear out something I never expected,
Even after 3 Years,
even the faintest memory,
give me chills in the warmest quilt.
“I can’t”, She said.
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You all had fun,
you all drank,
you all made plans,
for the promised land,
you all played
you all loved ,
you all made your way,
to heaps of cash above,
I headed away,
I listened to heart,
I became crazy ,
falled apart,
In search for dreams,
shouts without scream,
insanity prevailed,
without a sound.
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Left cold alone,
in a blanket nude,
lies my love singing,
waiting for you,
to watch me all night,
while i hold her again,
to kiss me everywhere,
to forget all pain,
I love her dearly,
but i have more mistresses too,
All willing to lie with me,
to see me through,
my shelves are full of them,
new ones come every month
only the smell remains same,
like books there is none.
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Some watch the rich,
some watch the famous,
some the daring
and some watch people in love,
then they wish they were blessed,
as they were,
never do they see the world around,
the sun,the stars,
never do they see within,
the heart,the thirst,
never do they ask themselves,
Why?
there are no blessed souls,
just souls with their voice echoed and listened in the hearts,
souls which are alive
and have seen everything
which we failed to see.
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Within us,
everyone of us,
bodies of lie live,
the lies range from person to person,
some lie about their fears,
some lie about failures,
some about the strength they have,
some of the courage they hold,
the weight and scream of these bodies,
drag us down from the peaks,
make us fall,
make us nervous,
stop us from achieving goals,
because we have a habit of burying the past
and not facing it.
On a fateful day,
bring up those bodies,
and burn them till you suffer,
with lies,
the suffering is temporary,
the scars are mere signs,
that you are not ashamed of the truth,
that you face the world without lies,
just bring up those bodies and incinerate them
with the past you never wanted
and one day,
the peak will be yours,
you won’t feel the scars,
just the truth and nothing else.
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Writings to Heaven 