Tag: love

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.

This is not what I chose to feel

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

This is not what I choose to feel,
When all I did was hold you dear;
I’m now hurt with no hope to heal
And instead of love, I taste fear.

The days of happiness die fast,
The tangled moments have no respite,
What will, eventually, last
Is gathered pain, after each fight.

I find that I must cringe and rue
The pain of life, the loss of love,
Who must I relegate blame to:
A devil below, a god above?

But I walked with open eyes,
Thinking this is what should be done
To hold joy before it wilts and dies,
To gather flowers under the sun.

If the skies greyed and storms began,
What matter who merits the blame;
All that counts is I was my own man,
Who held to each rule of this game.

Making Love Stay

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Happiness entered with love.

Its intensity decreased.

It bursts in random fits now,

Yet it hasn’t fully ceased.

 

I hope due to memory

Of each and every touch;

But I try not to complain –

At least, not so very much.

 

Is this all that’s left behind:

A touch here, a smile there?

Yes, most loving’s done alone,

In dreams built from empty air.

 

But my fear is this

That I will never realize,

If this is love’s truth

As seen from its own eyes?

 

I could free this happiness,

For one that seems more,

But then I remember

I have done this before.

 

Do I need to reach out,

While holding this one true,

And find in other smiles

What I often found in you?

 

Is this what love had to show

To make me notice the grey,

In love’s battle of colours,

Is this how we make it stay?