Tag: pain

The Beginning

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia3 Comments

It starts with little things:
A shout in a conversation,
A caress shrugged off,
A turning away in sleep,
Or a small promise
One forgot to keep.

It starts small:
A forgotten holiday,
Or a hug once a day,
A letter never written,
Or a word one needed to say.
A refusal to touch
After all,
Speaks more than words
By not sleeping much.

It starts quietly:
No great feeling of loss,
Just a tingling warning,
A squinting of the eye,
The littlest lie,
And then there is
Destiny’s pulling back,
As it starts to die.

Do Not Touch Me

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

Don’t touch me,
If you do not want to.
I am more than
My love for you.
It may be full,
It can be blind,
It is what elsewhere
You will never find!

I am beautiful
And I am kind;
I have a heart;
I have a mind;
I am my body
And though it wants you –
Do not touch me,
If you do not want to.

The Coming

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

Insecurity is not at all flattering:
It reeks of imagined loss and current fear;
The former hasn’t happened quite yet;
The latter forgets all who hold you dear.

The night brings it back,
When lovers snore and sleep;
And all you do is gaze into the dark,
Wondering if it’s truly that deep.

Anxiety may follow suit and soon –
But –

You ejaculate in your hand!

A calm replaces the tumult
And fear is no longer that grand.

Loss still remains. So you bear it;
You recall you have borne it before!
You understand you can and will bear it,
Even if life makes it erupt once more.