• hemantpuri 5w


    On clumsy days
    Whilst the frost kissed panes
    Whisper, Et tu, Brute?
    to the waltzing evening breezes
    We put on our misfit hoodies
    And get cosier in our personal space
    And sip on our Bohemia cups
    That mismatch with the masks we wear
    Or with the green strands of hair
    That roll deep down your neckline
    Like the roots of an immigrant soul
    In wistful hopes of finding
    Not a house but a home
    You quote to me,
    “ We accept the love we think we deserve”
    And the next day you’ve replaced
    All the tulips with plastic wallflowers
    Cause love, love is a misnomer
    And you, a perpetual ghost town
    You say you like the sunsets
    In its vermilion glory,
    Much like the sanguine threads
    That run down our palms
    Determining our destiny
    I quote Nietzsche to you
    "He who fights with monsters
    might take care lest
    he thereby become a monster."
    Like the blush of dawn
    That corny poets romanticise
    In itself every dawn holds
    A universal language
    But then, my dear
    We, gullibles are good snitches
    Are good at whims and muses
    Yet so poor interpreters
    of thy sub conscious richness

    Am I back?
    No. Probably not