Tag: heart

Some Say

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Some say, you love only once.
Some say, no conditions applied.
You know love’s trickier than that;
Those some didn’t mean to, but they lied.
Love occurs at various times.
It comes and goes, per its will,
Though it treats you to a grand date,
It, kind of, leaves you with the bill.

Some say, it is pure and pristine.
Some say, true love forever stays.
You find it can be hurtful and sad;
Those some didn’t consider all its ways.
Love is jealous and often mean,
It makes you fall against your will,
And then you find yourself alone,
Then you force your heart to be still.

Some say, it is God-like and holy.
Some say, it elevates the soul.
You hope it leaves you alive and sane;
Those some didn’t know it consumes you whole.
Love hurts and, if God exists,
It only makes Him the best:
For when true love scraps your heart,
It is flung back to His chest.

Regretfully

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

So this is how death in love begins:
You stop saying small good mornings,
Berate those insignificant sins,
You once thought of as delightful things.

You take away what I am now used to,
For those are deeds you forget to do;
But I remember these parts of you,
For they were what made your heart feel true.

I am more difficult than I know;
But that is what you already knew;
Now you see what you chose to ignore;
Difficulty seems like something new.

I don’t believe you love me no more.
I do not think any less of you.
But you seem like others gone before,
Past lessons all seem truer than true.

Love is often such that finds those
Who pursued you claiming forever
Forgetting the vows they made in throes,
When your own love starts to endeavor.

Maybe the condescension of time
Is meant to be, is meant to be,
And all feeling is meant to decline,
Regretfully, regretfully.

In Two Days

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

In two days, words were spoken that left my heart quite broken.

It wasn’t a complete shattering; but a shrewd, quiet battering.

I wonder why words matter so, when i quite plainly know, that those who willfully spoke meant words to painfully stoke vanity and vulnerability, which I hide deep within me.

But the heart shelters these two with that which has kept me true.

The words flew in and struck, and i was quite out of luck, they lashed and broke quite a bit – I’m still reeling from the hit.

A corner here, a chunk there, no word was lost to barren air; so I nestle chips and dents and, through this poem, it vents its bitterness and loss of hope, wondering how I’ll manage to cope with the ideal of love inside the reality of pride.