What do you do with the songs?

I wonder what do you do with all the songs? You know the songs, that people, friends, lovers and so on suggest to you or the ones you suggest to them? What do you do with these songs when these people leave?

What do you do when the song, that you and your best friend screamed into the mike at that karaoke bar comes on the radio, when you both don’t talk anymore?

What do you do with the song that your boyfriend sang on the phone at 2 am when he drunk dialed to tell you he loves you, when you haven’t seen him in months.

What do you do with the song that you danced to at your wedding with the man who promised to love forever, when the last you saw him was in a divorce court?

How many songs can you avoid? How many songs can you hate, simply because they bring you nothing but a stabbing  pain in your heart as the memories of people that left comes rushing back.

What do you with the songs?

 

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

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Memories that sting

Sting
Like a faded wound, that doesn’t bother you anymore,

I think about them no more.

Except when I stumble upon old letters,

I read them anyway, even though I know better.

Declarations of love, poetry for my beloved and sweet nothings

As my fingers trace the faded words, I have trouble breathing.

I move on to further musings, tear soaked papers, stories of pain

Promises to self to never love again, all in vain.

I find a box of heartache in every corner of my life,

Stories of people whose words hurt more than a knife.

Again and again, the same old misfortune and pain,

Just by people with different names.

Every time I look the dusty volume of my past,

I wonder what curse has been cast?

For even I though lock them away, memories of heartache still cling,

Every time I think of the past, it still stings.

© Sneha P [rights reserved 2017]

Trance

Trance

Whispered promises of friendship and love,

Hope glimmering, like the stars above.

Stolen kisses, shy smiles and intense glances,

Things that made me give you multiple chances.

Hanging on to your words from the past,

Blind to the promises broken so fast.

Living in a memory where things were right,

A haven, where we never had a fight.

Where your words didn’t make my heart bleed

Where you said I was all you could ever need.

Now I live in false hope, tired of this sadistic dance

What can I do? I am caught up in your trance.

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved 2017]

The Holidays

As the white snow covered the ground underneath,

The weight of memories comes crashing down,

I find it hard to breathe.

The twinkling lights were too bright,

But the darkness dominated the night.

The warmth of the coco

could not warm your cold heart,

Even my love’s passion failed to do its part.

You murmur as you shove aside the mistletoe,

‘A kiss can make you fall in love,

And I have no emotions, don’t  you know?’

As the laughter fills the air,

There is only one thing for which I care.

To hold you tight once again,

Ah! The holidays bring too much pain.

 

 

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

Regrets

Discover

Crumpled pieces of paper

lie in the corner,

Poetry I wrote for you,

What a waste, if only I knew.

What’s worse is my crumpled heart,

Broken promises and a friendship that fell apart.

As I burnt myself in love’s destructive fire,

Consumed by pain, longing, and desire

You whiled away in your palace of apathy,

The notion that you had human emotions, was a fallacy.

The heart-wrenching pain has finally subsided

A dull ache remains, of a love unrequited.

The butterflies I got on seeing you, have finally died

Darling, finally I’ve discovered, love, will never suffice.

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

What remains

Stump

When you promised forever,

I didn’t think it ended with a date.

I try to call it some plot by fate.

We both know you never believed in the stars,

But then again, did I ever really know who you are?

When you left, without a word, without telling me why,

I dropped a tear, as I questioned the sky.

Now you are gone, leaving me in a rut

But like an old tree that has been cut,

The feelings remain, much like the stump

that remains, stubbornly, sticking out

in the now barren land.