Tag: heartbreak

Wherewithal

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I write in contrived rhyme,
Of love found, and of love lost,
Through the years, what I achieved
And exactly what it truly cost.

Why do most get a careless sleep,
When dark thoughts harass me so?
Why do I ask these stupid questions,
When their answers I already know?

Giving of myself comes easy;
Though I am no stranger to my worth;
I ought to be less human to
Carry on life, no matter the hurt.

I am tired of this roller coaster,
I am tired of the bitterness and pain,
I’m even tired of the truthful smiles,
That I know will surely come again.

I know love alters, when it shouldn’t,
I know death hangs around to take us all,
Yet I know I’d do it all just the same,
For I know, I’ve, within, the wherewithal!

Alone

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia3 Comments

I looked at you,
Over an aching heart –
The disgust in you
Gave despair a start.

All I wanted
Was made too clear:
Strong security
And freedom from fear.

Though I know all men
Are much the same:
I played this old game
That has a new name.

I walk the night again,
It will help me cope,
With a cold future,
That freezes my hope.

Your touch has lost warmth,
My eyes aren’t as bright;
You get more than you ask
And I have no will to fight.

I am alone again,
I make love alone;
It is alone I smile,
All alone I moan.

Intimacy was lust
They blurred in the start,
I must explain this
To this fallen heart.

The Snorers

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

When you lie alone,
In some future bed,
You perhaps may understand a quarter
Of what lies in my heart,
And perhaps a percent
Of what goes on in my head.

But I hope not.

Because by then I may not
Be alive – or with you –
Perhaps by then I’d have understood
What I have been trying to.

I’ve tried to gain a touch,
That I have not asked or desired,
Of your own volition,
Even if it’s just because you’re tired.

Rest your hand on my cheek,
Or put your fingers in my shirt,
I’ve not asked for much,
Just a touch, to heal a hurt.

I understand.

You’re not wired that way;
Intimacy isn’t your go-to;
There’s nothing one can say
To make things happen.
You’re built of different clay.

But if and when I give up,
And you’ll find me adrift and casual,
You’ll perhaps miss who I was –
What I was was unusual.

Perhaps I’ll learn to be you;
Perhaps your withholding is strength;
Perhaps I’ll learn the life you had
Was the love you meant.

Perhaps.

What I had to teach
Couldn’t ever be learnt;
And I’d heal and harden,
After touch is lost and hope is burnt.

One night as you turn in bed
And open your eyes with a start,
Like humans do after a broken snore,
You may find me gone –

Or perhaps asleep in the distance…
Perhaps then you’ll see a hard heart
In a room with a locked door,
Cut off, forever and ever more.