These Years.

These years have bought me Wisdom.
Would I trade it to retain Beauty?
These years have brought me Pain
And showed me vanity in Love and Duty –
Would I go through it all again?

These years have taught me lessons.
Would I want to go back to the Past?
These years have shown me (they have known me)
To move on from things that failed to last –
Would they treat me now more kindly?

These years have allowed my heart to bleed.
Would I want to let it heal?
These years have left me dumb
And reduced my capacity to feel –
Would I trade these to stop being numb?

These years, these years, these years, these years.
Could I really not feel and let them slide?
These years have marred me, but not in vain.
Some smiles are gone but all have not died –
Could I not gather Life from all this Pain?

Through the Years.

Through the years love has morphed
Into – what? I do not know!
But though it still remains,
It shines with brighter shades of woe.

Once you would reach out and touch me.
Now there’re other things on your mind;
Stolen kisses, softened gazes
Are left somewhere far, far behind.

Once we would dance in a crowd,
And know just each others’ arms;
Now you sit out every song,
While to dance I barter my charms.

Once you had much to say to me:
Hours on end our talks would last.
Now my words are replied with shrugs
Your tenderness needs be asked.

Once your eyes said you wanted me
Seconds apart seemed like years.
Now you value time as money:
Coins are costlier than tears.

Once our eyes told the other
How our smiles could simply beguile.
But now we are better pleased
To make some other stranger smile.

Once when my words grew bitter,
You wept and said you’d never let go.
I ask now, what if fate tore us apart?
You calmly smile and reply, I don’t know.

8th may
12:40am

 

edited: 9 0ct, ’12

To the Young One.

Man, your words were sharp and your voice was strong,
You meant to hurt and you succeeded well,
All I asked was you – an entire night long,
And I was offered a brief glimpse of hell.
You cut to the quick, when you doubted me
And my offer to protect. When you know:–
That, all my life, I lived in the fantasy
Of basking in a man’s protective glow.

Since that is not my fate to have, young one,
I, perhaps, should wizen up and think:
I could ignore the signs and have my fun,
Then jump ship as it is about to sink;
Or think of our future as one needs to
And kill the fantasy and protect you.

22 January
5:30am