• aaditya 52w

    the room was fit for two,
    the bed was left in ruins.

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    before i fell
    for your hollow words,
    with withered wings
    like a frighted bird.

    i fell in love with
    the prose in your eyes,
    the smile of yours
    and my heart demised.

    i fell in love with
    how my heart was tore,
    i reached for your hands
    but it was there no more.

    i fell in love with
    my lips were slain,
    i kissed few others
    but it was never the same.

    but first love is silly
    your heart never knows,
    you sleep with a lover
    or just the remorse.

    when you dream of past
    while all alone,
    you will think of kisses
    or just cuts on the bone.

    and then poet inside you
    is peeled and devoured,
    and tears in your eyes are
    just futile metaphors.

    you offer your skin
    to a bowl full of leeches,
    you still write about love
    but between the parentheses.

    then you ask yourself
    have you ever felt loved,
    you say-plenty of times just

    never right kind of love.