A holy gift found in hell

 A holy gift found in hell

Waiting through the sickness of cherry blossom moon,

You captured the insomnia of dead summer june

Fainting in my eye , i decapitated your lies ,

But who would picture me to ruin?

What is truth ?

What are lies?

When i gave you my heart,

I was happy enough to try

But you were not that best thing,

Happened to me in any month.

You were the worst glory of sick spring,

Rising above the “make believe” sapphire

 of picture pedestal wing.

Weakening my soul,

I shackled ths love in that cage of vulnerability

When my poems would write,

How i once felt about you.

Surmounting my weak glories and feels,

We both reasoned our captured wheels.

But you were bad for my heart,

So bad for my soul to craft.

Silence grew to become solitude,

Communications cut to turn fatal feud.

Pens stopped to write true feelings,

When i grew to glorify our unreal happy endings.

Broken parts in my hearts,

Were meant to cure this defeating start

Who to trust?

Who to believe in that frozen thirst?

Can we both lie?

Looking in each others eyes,

Can we both try,

To picture our hearts but just enough.

Can we both start again ? 

But can we both end this first?

Can we both wrap this holy gift in the hell,

So the heaven master can become

Profound not to yell on both of us.

Paras change , parts rage

My eyes say to every other eyes,

That we both are flourished

To start this in disgust.

Would you be mine ,

for once and for all?

But would you please stop telling

Me another lie,

That you loved me ever with my flaws and falls.

My heart feels empty ,

My brain feels drenched.

When we bitter the lies in truth wrapped clothes,

The hating love loathes to flourish

 the shattered flows.

My ink never fades,

Or defy what my heart wants to stay.

It is always capable of portraying,

What it always wants to portray.

So my places are never that hollow,

How your holes have always been.

But your love was always so frosted

A love that was meant to leave the one 

For which it lasted ever since undone.

Pages get turn,

The pen even become incapable of writing 

The tears of my heart.

Cause when withered willow satires

Around the blank  blanketed youth .

The youth of today just take it for granted,

Like the unseen truth.

So who should we love ?

In this generation where self love is missing

Who should we trust?

When we even cannot trust ourselves completely.

Who should we live with ?

When everyone leaves at the end .

Who should we be with ?

When the heaven even make hell’s amend ?

Who should we write for ?

When the written words get never read ?

Who should we believe in ?

When the believer behold another seeker. 

Who should we fall for ?

When everyone has fallen for the wrong ones

Who should we break for ?

When the broken get healed , every once in a while.

So can we both defy,

The norms of our wills waiting but ,why ?

as the society says,

Can we fly in the abstracts of sky

Can i pretend nothing,

Except that i have forgotten about you genuinely

Can i cry when i want ?

And sleep according to my will?

But who would rub my back?

And who would kiss my lucky stars?

When the hell have chosen heaven,

And heaven have blessed hell again around seven.

That this life is a holy gift,

Not to be wasted for another ‘love’ on ‘lovers day’,

This life is given to you as a gift to be lived,

But still she unheard what the hell and heaven say.

Walking beneath bushes of another ferry game,

Falling for another boy,

Falling for another male

Would he be worthy enough to be loved by her unconditionally?

Or she would once again cry to sleep in her forthcoming days?

Leeza