Tag: love

Wrinkle

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

The young smile has not aged now
And most times I tend to forget
The stains in the teeth and the breath
Leftover by a smoking cigarette.

For how can youth be flawed?
By default, his skin is tight
His body throbs higher abd faster
Through the caverns of night.

Age might sound wise and true
And it may even look better
But life’s lessons has it tired
And dried up eyes don’t get wetter.

Lines shall come around the mouth
They may shade and cover the eyes
It all comes at a price that says
Everything that lives sometime dies.

Youth and age sometime fall in love
And for the love to last through time
As age looks beyond each stain
Youth must disregard each line.

Simple

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

The night is ending into a summmer sun,
Its short detour has ended; it is done.
The crows are cawing; the heat slowly begins;
I wonder if I have paid for all my sins.
I ask for more time and time isn’t enough
To feel and consummate this love stuff.
There are battles that surge through the short night,
No one can determine what was right.
Each to his own in anger seethes,
Bitterness grows in the heart and feeds
All that happened in love and pleasure,
Until pain replaces all of its treasure.
Seldom can a heart overcome this woe;
Mine has been broken before, so I know.
If strength and will govern your heart,
You will choose then not to depart.
However, I shall try to love you less:
I love too hard and loving leaves a mess.
I wish you commit to this love you claim;
But your life is such that won’t speak its name.
So I shall try, and try, to pull back more
And remember lessons from the break before.

No

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I painted you for your birthday;
I saw you happy with the flowers;
There was joy, and laughter, and cake;
But all of it lasted a few hours.

Cakes are eaten and art is forgotten;
Smiles, like flowers, die;
Everything that I thought was truth,
How quick becomes a lie!

There lies a bitter miscommunication,
In language and in thought;
If I could only disremember, too,
All that you, by default, forgot.

You say no, when you mean ask,
I think of “no” as consent withdrawn;
I see passion that means intimacy,
And you see the devil with his horn.

The hours pass and you return home;
My home remains the one you’ll leave;
So here lies love, with no faith, or calm,
That may yet choose to deceive.

The flowers are wilting, as I type,
The memories I made, still shake me;
As death comes for the flowers, I smile,
Hoping he, at least, won’t forsake me.