Speak Up

Sweet little thing, precious as a dove

One look at her, and you believed in the Gods above

She smiled not with her lips, but with her soul

Sparkly and gleaming, lighting up dark nights.

But her eyes, something hid in them, somewhere deep inside

They looked like they were tired, like a part of her, had died.

I wondered who hurt her fragile, beautiful heart

Who could have torn her trust apart?

She whispered in a hushed tone, “It was probably my fault”

Every inch of my body and soul, say no in revolt

I think to myself –

You with your kind words and trusting soul can never hurt a fly

This is where your problem lies.

You give them the power, to decide how you feel

When all they do, is take away your joy and zeal.

One of these days, just say it out loud, and you will be born anew

“It wasn’t me afterall. It was you”

False Faith

People stand in front of idols of stone and clay

Their faith breaths life into these, and they begin to pray.

In a similar fashion, I held your stony heart

Kissing it tenderly, hoping for it to jump start.

I whispered my prayers in the form of poetry and song

Pouring every drop of my love, tears, flowed along.

I handed you the pieces of me that were left alive

I hoped you would keep them safe, I was so naive.

For you sipped your drinks, and you held me in an embrace

I could see compassion, sympathy, but not love on your face.

You held up my chin and wiped away my tears,

However, the lack of light in yours confirmed my fears.

For darling, you had pushed me into a well,

Slowly, carefully, craftily you had cast your spell,

And now, when I was stuck, you were saying farewell.

© Sneha Pathak (Rights Reserved)

The horrors of love

When you find yourself

Crying to sleep

When your cuts are just too deep

When right before you thought it was going okay

You find your cheeks tear-stained, in the middle of the day.

When you dread speaking your mind

To avoid argument of any kind

For everything seems to spark a conflict

Maybe its time to realize

Heartbreak is the drug,

You are an addict.

That’s when you must look in the mirror

Look in your eyes, you’ll see fear.

Fear of being alone, not love my darling

And that right there is a good point for starting.

Pack your bags, emotionally or otherwise,

For a day mourn the relationship’s demise.

For a day, I say and not a second more,

For your heart has witnessed love turn to gore.

Sweet nothings turn to a bitter after taste in your mouth,

after you take their name

And not your happiness, but your sanity is now in doubt.

Leave, and run, far and away, somewhere they can’t find you again,

All your lost strength, try to regain.

Build yourself, this time stronger than before

For now, you have seen, the horrors love has in store.

But don’t give up on love my darling

For somewhere, there is someone who has gone through the same

Maybe one day, when you meet them, this shall make sense.

But if you don’t, that’s okay too

Because the person who loves you the most has to be you.

 

(c) Sneha Pathak 2019

Rights Reserved.

 

 

Hope is the thing

Hope is the thing that ruins you

The veiled demon,  dressed in a cloak of gold

Hiding underneath the dagger and the black robes.

Like the sirens that call out to the sailor

Hope sings a melody of success and dreams

Of success, glory, and joy bursting at seams.

It draws you out of your comfort zone,

Of apathy and inaction.

The small flame of light,

Fighting away the familiar dak night.

It promises you the morning sun,

Beware, its a trap. Run!

It draws you out and makes you toil

It makes you walk the burning soil

It takes your sweat, blood, and tears

It gives you sleepless nights filled with fear.

For now, you have something of value

The false diamond of dreams, gifted by hope.

But now it has made you a beggar

For you pray to all gods known to mankind

You pray to the universe, beg for a sign.

And when its all gone to dust

As you maybe knew it would

You are left a pile of skin and bones.

Hope will be the death of you

And just when you have given up

It will resurrect you anew.

 

© Sneha Pathak

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]

Mon Amour

Here’s my entry for this week’s tale – 3 Line tales

She had forgotten all about that exciting week in Paris where she felt one with herself, free-spirited and full of hope inspired by all the artists, museums and most of all, her time with the charming young French poet she fell in love with.

The smell of children’s socks had replaced the fresh baked goods smell from the boulangeries, the screams of her husband had replaced the poets tender rhymes, the callouses on her hands from the chores had replaced the feeling of soft silk dresses she wore in Paris.

But today, as her youngest daughter took off for college, she visited her husband’s grave one last time, bid her farewell and as she began to drive away, she looked back one last time at this city which she was planning to leave forever to chase a dream that was breathed to life again by the letter in her hand that contained the following words – “J’attends toujours mon amour*”

 

*I am still waiting my love

 

(c) Sneha Pathak

Dinner table conversation

Like a iron hammer striking a metal gong
The spoon clashes against the plate
Playing crude, loud, lonely songs
Of love, heartbreak and fate.

The old chair creaks under my touch, the one that we picked out together
The one you always wanted to get rid of for a newer design
You see I held on to it,
For my hope unlike yours, does not resign.

The pale white plates with light blue flowers clatter as I put them on the table,
The state of which, is also no longer stable.

This creaking, clatter and clashes, make noises make a symphony
Helping me fill this silence melancholy.
Even though my heart can’t stand this separation,
This melody, makes up for our missing dinner table conversation.