THE MELANCHONY OF MOVING ONE

THE MELANCHONY OF MOVING ONE

 

" You can love someone so deeply , so purely , so unconditionally and still you have to let them go, though we say fight for love, but how long  I would be the only one fighting all alone ? "

Leeza  

 

 

 

It pulls me somewhere near to my brainless concussions ,

As I wary my soul near to the heart who doesn`t get me

37 days into the pain and the blood seems my destiny

The guardian of my healing is stuck in the anguishes of your eyes

I often times wonder

Did  you  ever even lose your water or  sweat?

As I do on Saturdays  . 

They all say that too much of the love is a disease

Too much of a   grief is the comfort

Too much of the  remembrance is the familiarity of being in touch

And too much of the hate is the sign that you have loved and lost ,

the marathon , thinking it was a race.

 

 

I write poems about you , still

I can`t stop myself about feeling this inertia near to my blood clots

The platelets I have lost , the dreams I have drowned , the seizures I have mishandled,

They all called me strong and they all called  you wrong

I did try so much to get over you but I am sitting right where you left me , all alone

Look you are gone . 

Is this the  sweet melanchony of our 1450 days or the seasoning of winter fails ?

I hate to say , I hate to even feel sometimes, but when this song plays

You come back   to my mind, like when I wake up and before I go to sleep,

But I can`t find you in any of my dreams and I know this is for the best ,

But don`t you dream about me , or do you enjoy your new life more ?

And I am sure you do enjoy everything after me ,

as I was the profanity of your loathed past.

I sob and I cry and then my attention sometimes divide ,

I grieve the grievings of my life , I lost one person after the other ,

My grandparents and my great gone lover ,

I hope I don`t upset , the highness of your esteem ,

when I write about you as I got no one to pat my back when I scream

This is not a poem , this is not a song of sadness ,

 it is an open letter to address ,

That even if I will miss you all my life,

 I won`t confess it to you ever for whatever you said to me on 8th

My soul is painted by the shattered glasses of your stains. 

How should I say , that I loved you even when you were mean and unempathetic  ,

I think this is my biggest sin and now I write the twisted affair of my punishments

I know I should be caged and killed for all the disgraces I commit

when a women love more , It is a tragic case , an immoral act, an unaccomplished chase ,

this is THE REGRET of regrets and I have to endure this till I get engraved

I was the cursed one , I was the cost for this unhappiness , like I was the seed of this solace ,

But could I change , and If I change , would I change for the better or worse ?

But don`t you ever paint your eyes red when you try to get some sleep?

Or it  is all so easy , like getting over is your most proficient  phase ,

I don`t want to  know if you ever loved me , tell me only if you love me still ,  

and be sure about me this time , never mind, don`t say, don`t break my broken heart ,

I am lost , I am stuck in this maze, I remember the days , that I didn`t spend ,

The nights we couldn`t call, all the plans  we cancelled for other days

 as I could get more to cherish  and more reasons to feel this way,

and this is the melody of another incomplete love story   , which was not meant to be ,

but maybe it is the commencement of something more profuse , of something more fulfilling,

I don`t know still if I will ever be over you completely, but I know that I loved you deeply,

And maybe this is all what makes me content , that being a human, I behaved like one ,

Like I could do anything with this heart , but I chose to gave it to you , all of it, completely ,

And though you couldn`t keep it forever, but I still trusted you because I was your  Lover .

 

~Leeza