Devyani Saini's Blog, page 3

Unrequited | Poetry

The worst thing is

Not when you love

A loveless monster,

Bit when you love

A fire that glows

To warm everyone,

But to burn you. 

Only you. 

– does that make me the monster?

Healing | Poetry

Do not think it is easy to be someone’s punching bag.

The first bruises, you do not see so clearly.

They darken to a purple only after days of

Skin being ripped apart, fingers breaking,

Lungs inflating, exploding.

The healing is arduous.

Tears wash me like walking through rain.

Wounds turn to scabs.

Yet once the healing is done I am still brittle.

I will break again.

After the first punch.

– i wish i didn’t break so easily

 

Inhibition | Poetry

You do not know the pain,

the repulsion,

Of looking at yourself in

the mirror

The next morning and

thinking why,

Why did I do that? I wish 

I hadn’t

Done that. And it hurts

because I

Knew what I was doing.

– i wish i could blame it on the alcohol.

 

Weakness IV | Poetry

Giving you my secrets is

Giving you a noose to tie around my neck,

Giving you the sword with which to behead me,

Giving you the exact instructions with which to caress me.

 

 

(I wonder, what will you choose to do?)

Key | Poetry

When I give you the key to my heart

Do not expect to find something easy to understand,

And Love, and protect,

Like sunshine, gemstones, and flowers,

In the place of blood,

Lust, and rotted flesh,

Poisoned by memories

I would do anything to forget.

Weakness III | Poetry

My true weakness is giving. I give,

And give, expecting nothing. 

You take, and take, you

Drain me till I am

Empty. And I,

A naïve fool,

Will keep

Giving. 

Weakness II | Poetry

To know me

Is as simple as

Judging a book by its cover,

Reading the face of a clock for the time.

(Is it really a weakness

To expose myself

To the world?)

All the Things I Want to Say | Poetry

Look for truth in the letters I write,

For the pen and the pages

Give me courage to say

What my cowardly tongue

Keeps locked away.

Weakness I | Poetry

I am one of those unfortunate souls

who looks in people’s eyes

and sees acceptance,

mistaking it for love.

 

It’s no wonder

my heart breaks

every time they

look away.

On My Future Love | Poetry

Sometimes

I am afraid

You will not be as good

As the poet’s muse.

 

Sometimes

I am relieved

You will be better.