Tag: Broken

Broken

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I’m broken.
People come,
Stick me back,
I help with the glue.
But the glue has no strength.
A tiny wisp of wind
Is all it takes.
It brushes past
And all of me breaks.
I’m tired of breaking.
I wish I was a fortress
Lasting millennia.
Or a wall
That keeps people in place.
Or sand that knows
No great weather.
But I’m not.
I depend.
Ironic.
It breaks me.
The pieces get difficult
To find.
It hurts to break.
But
Even when broken
No one
Casts me away.
No one
Wants me gone.
Maybe they like
The challenge
Of putting me back
Together.
Maybe they like
Seeing me
… broken.
Maybe I’m words
Meant to be
Spoken
Into
Breeze.
Maybe they wish
To see how much
I can take.
How far I last
How small I can break.
But, you see,
No matter how much
I am glued back,
I am broken.
Swaying in the breeze,
Counting on words
Not yet spoken.

OLD FRIEND

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia3 Comments

I have nothing else to say to you now.
I have nothing more to offer or give.
I have spent my heart, I have kept each vow.
You forget all and I cannot forgive.
The torture of the heart (and there is one)
Is akin to a murder by drowning;
And all that was felt and said and done
Is now a matter for blackened mourning.
Words, like gales, seem to rush past as you leave,
Feelings, however, will not leave with you;
I have lost my faith, I cannot believe,
I cannot discern just which past was true.
And so, old friend, you have prepared me well:
I doubt heaven, I’m undaunted by hell.

Forty

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Then as you turn a decade older,
The heart turns ten degrees colder;
The outward smile warps inward now,
The lines deepen the widened brow.
Age has taught much as it should,
Have you learnt as much as you could?
Are there newer hurts left to feel?
Are there newer hopes left to reveal?
Is there time left for parched lips to kiss?
Is there anything left for you to miss?
Do the rhymes fail and fall blank
Into talent that was never frank?
Smiles are ready. Regrets are uncertain.
Loss made sure all rules lay broken.
As you move from white and black to grey,
Fuck what you do and hear and say.
People are never who they appear,
In time you know, they will all disappear;
Hands that held yours were just hotter air –
Tragic; but belief taught you despair.
This air flows in and out much like breath,
It will flow on, perhaps until death.
Smile, though what you feared would surely hold,
Turn rusting iron into molten gold.
Wear the coronet and rise and shine.
You won you with the passage of time.