Baggage

I dropped off my bags at the station today
I’ll never collect them again.

I wonder if someone else will find them
And look at all those memories
Wonder who these two strangers are
See all our first times, so vividly
Thru an unknown set of eyes
Will they see that love disguised
The one I never spoke of to you
The one you always knew.

Or will those bags be unclaimed
Left in the dust and stained
With the liquor of time
Tossed aside with hate and crime
Do these bags, really deserve that?

They are my bags, blue and bright
And yours are grey and white.
Same instances, different perspectives
One with colour and the other deprived.

I love them, I wish I didn’t have to.

But I drop my bags off,
And though they are precious to me,
I shall not collect them again.

What have you done with your bags?

Pretending to be Enemies

Drink up, my love.
It’s the only way you can remember
and forget me,
At the same time.

Why do we do this to ourselves?
Forgetting the good, creating the bad.
Based on past, the history,
Why do we let our history define us?

Old wounds, Old love.
Swords and shields up high in the air.
Pretending to be enemies,
Fighting battles we’ve made up in our heads.

Not anymore.

I am Guilty.
The scar of where my heart once was,
I guard it against the only person,
Who can heal me.
You.

Hold my hand again.
Help me walk up, and I will too.
We have nothing to lose.
Because I’ve already lost you.

I was wrong.
I can’t fight fire with fire, not now.
You don’t deserve fire.
You deserve to be loved.

I want to love you again.
Because hating you isn’t working.

Kiss me again.
“I am Yours.
And You are Mine.”

Wandering, but Not Lusting

“Wanderlust.”

She drooled over the word,
With shiny, wide eyes,
She repeated it like it was her highway to an escape.
She dreamed of paradise.

In the middle of conversations,
She would tell us where she would go.
Because all the things around us,
Were mundane, boring and old.

She said there was no excitement,
No colour in her life.
And with her new-found vocabulary,
She would set the colour balance right.

She would visit the Amazon,
And prove she was one too.
She would stop by Paris,
And sip coffee under the sky blue.

So as soon as we graduated,
Free to choose our own dreams.
She packed her suitcase and
Was never again to be seen.

I imagine she would have chanted,
‘Wanderlust’ in prayer.
As she boarded the
Automobile that would take her.

To the place she always wanted to go,
I wonder if she ever found it.
This traveller’s biggest flaw was
She couldn’t bare the sound of silence.

Me? I live a normal life,
But I do find paradise.
The beauty is in the smallest of things,
A look or two would suffice.

For the idealist that trotted the globe,
Only found Elysium.