The perfect couple

Pretty as a picture

Their life seems so rosy

To the world outside

They seem to be living warm and cozy.

For the music at their parties

Drowns out the screams

Their smiles are so perfect and dazzling

No one seems to guess

The reality so very troubling.

For they play the perfect couple

Of martial life, beautiful without a ripple.

But the storm underneath they manage to conceal

Their tired, swollen eyes, they give away how they really feel.

The scars on their body

Well hidden my seams

The scars on their heart

Well what of them?

For they follow the whims of their heart,

They had promised to stick together

Till death do them apart.

(C) Sneha Pathak

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What do you know of heartbreak?

What do you know of heartbreak?

You don’t get emotionally invested

Your eyes have never been tested

For the number of tears, they can dispel

Your lips, for the number of apologies

They can propel.

You can walk out of love like it meant nothing

You, forget people like children forget old playthings.

You thought the song under the stars was a childish gesture

My love, my care, my loyalty, do you realize they are a treasure?

You dismissed the cards I made you,

Staying up all night

You go to your parties, right after a fight.

You see no emotions in the poetry I write

You don’t fear losing your love,

and waking with a fright.

You say you’re stoic and unemotional

I say you have never known love and devotion.

I say you haven’t felt the pain I feel

When I see her every day

When I wonder why do people like her get their way?

I say you haven’t felt the crushing weight

of someone’s lips as they part with a final kiss.

I say, your heart has no one to long for, no one to miss.

I say that you have not felt the burning flames of love

Of a feeling so intense that it consumes your being.

Neither have you felt the pain of an indifferent lover

Because you are the first to walk out, even before it’s over.

© Sneha Pathak [Rights Reserved]

Letters to those who hurt me

I write a letter.

Several letters, one for each

Set of eyes that made mine overflow with tears.

One for the teacher

Who castigated me for years.

One for each bully

Who picked on me when I was weaker.

One for the friend

Who let me down in my time of need.

One for the aunty

Who broke down my self esteem.

One for the nameless relative

Who questioned my life choices.

One for the colleague

Who backstabbed me without cause.

One for the lover

Who made me cry every night

I pour my heart into these papers

Hoping it would make me feel lighter.

Telling these people off,

For all the times they hurt me carelessly.

Words spoken, cruelly and hastily.

And I write one final one

For the girl who writes these letters.

One to thank her,

For because of her pain, I became better.

I thank her for being patient

For pulling herself together

For braving through stormy weather.

I am the product of her endeavour

Of her courage, and her fear.

Where would she be

Without these experiences?

They moulded her,

And she moulded me.

I tear up the other letters

And keep just the one

I rise, like a Phoenix

As I watch the other letters burn.

(C) Sneha Pathak

When the world is too much

Their whispers are deafening today

She runs out and and far away.

Her body though, stays put there.

She smiles politely, acting unaware.

At times their words cut not her skin, but her soul

They see her bleeding, but their words just roll.

For they feel so powerful, sitting up high

Living in their little bubbles of lie.

Passing judgement like its their duty and right

Arm chair warriors, hiding behind little screens they fight.

They pick on the fallen and the weak,

For their opinion are baseless and their notions reek.

Some days their eyes continue to stare,

Some days it gets too much to bear.

So she runs away far, as far as her feet can carry

She stops on the beach, now really weary.

The sea makes her feet wet

And the grey sky starts spilling droplets.

She gets drenched, as her eyes add to the wetness.

Her skin craves a kind human touch,

Someone to tell her, fret not my dear, some days the world is just too much.

(C) Sneha Pathak

Darkness within, seeking the light.

On some nights, the storm outside seems bleak,

For your mind is in turmoil, as your will grows weak.

Some days, in bright daylight, surrounded by a crowd,

Your demons make your mind grow weak, as they scream so loud.

Some days, the ray of sunshine just isn’t enough for your winter,

As the shards of the delicate glass of broken hopes just lay there splintered.

Some days, you bleed on the paper and you bleed yourself dry

For tears can come from your pen, and not just your eyes.

Some days you scream out your pain and no one seems to hear,

Some days you push people away from the wall they try to tear.

Some days loneliness is a gaping pit that swallows you whole,

Some days, you question the meaning of life and your petty role.

Some days, they call the ghosts in your mind just an illusion,

Some days, your thoughts run wild through a maze of confusion.

Some days, you want to end it all for good and get out of your dread,

Other days, you muster just enough to get out of bed,

Some may call it trivial, I say call it courage instead.

The will to get up and just try a little bit more today,

The desire to find a will, to start walking on the way.

For the warrior doesn’t always win every battle he fights,

Some days, you can be a contradiction, living in the darkness fighting for a light.

 

(c) Sneha Pathak

A list of bliss

Soft cool breeze in autumn,

Leaves decorating the pathway in Auburn.

Sky painted in shades of orange and pink

White sheets of paper, ornated with dark blue ink.

Jazz instrumental playing in the background

Finding enthralling poetry in a library profound.

Kettles brewing some fresh tea for the evening

The sound of waves and the peace they bring.

Sunflowers, Roses, lilies of several colors and size

Finding small shells hidden in the beach like a prize.

The feeling of being wrapped in warm blankets on a winters night

A warmer hug from someone after a fight.

Having a good book and some hot chocolate in your hands

Reading tales of love and utopian lands.

This is a list of things that may fill your heart with joy and bliss

Add to this list, if there’s something amiss.

(C) Sneha Pathak

The girl in the blue polka dot dress

I remember the afternoon I met Her

We were both the only two people in the mueseum, alone, yet together.

In that solitude we felt an unspoken tug to talk to each other,

Our silences spoke volumes as polite smiles pushed the conversation further.

We walked together in unspoken agreement, yet in sync

The paintings fed our minds and our eyes continued to drink.

We spent hours talking, debating and discussing stories of times yore

As we shared hisotrical facts and nothing more.

We shared a coffee, and spoke of Van Gogh,

The way her eyes lit up, made me forget where I was, and where I was supposed to go.

We shared stories of art, philosophy and culture

Her face I have forgotten, for her mind is what had me captured.

When I bid her goodbye at the museum door,

We had spoken for five hours yet, I wanted more.

I watched her get swallowed by the crowd,

But I knew she wasn’t like them, her voice may be soft, but her words were loud.

The girl in the blue polka dot dress,

She did not tell me her name, neither did I press.

We may never meet each other again,

But I shall remember this afternoon, where I entered the museum merely to avoid the rain.

The beautiful encounter with the girl mysterious

Left my mind feeling fulfilled but my heart was left curious.

(C) Sneha P