Roses are sweet \\k.s

Roses are sweet,

Violets so sour,

Is that a coincidence that you

Departed in the most precious hour?

© Khushi Suneja

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I bleed\\ k.s

It is when a woman speaks, she mostly utters poetry.

It was the night of betrayal. It was the silent night. I remember the gust of wind that swayed me along, and got me out of my thoughts. It was yet a silent night, but I could hear you tiptoe your way.

You tiptoed right onto my place, right onto my way. I was there by the bornfire. Dreaming in pain. Writing in vain. The last writing I could recall. I could hear your shadow scream in silence, scream in the dark, warning me of the forthcoming disaster.

Yes, I knew your company was bad, the aura you carried was my unhealthy diet. I knew something was wrong. I knew you were wrong. But it was as though I was tempted by the devil.

I could feel your rush, even in a hush. I could feel you striding onto my way. I could sense yourcoming very well. I could sense your intensions. I could smell them. I could feel them.

Your audacity no longer surprising me, I resumed my poem. Your intensions making me smile, call it what my vanity, but I no longer consider your existence any worthy. I smile and wait for you to take a step. Wait for your colours to pop, wait for your inner devil to show up.Then, the fire burned even more drastically. Not of the bonfire, but in my veins. I waited and waited, and what I had forseen, came true this day.

You stabbed me with the dagger of your betrayal. And yet, I bled poetry.

© Khushi Suneja

Too much \\k.s

Is it too much to ask for, your love?

Is it too much to ask for when I long for your touch? I want your hands resting on my back, reassuring me everything’s gonna be alright. I want my head resting on your shoulder, your hand stroking my hair, telling me it’s okay. Is it too much to ask for?

Is it too much to ask for, that I desire hearing your voice? Is it too much that I want your soothing voice letting me know my worth? A monosyllable yes leaving your lips whenever I ask if we’re doing good? A little love from the edge of your lips. Is it too much?

Is it too much that I want your presence right beside me? Is it too much I admit your absence kills me? Is it too much when your presence drives me nuts and your absense insane? Is it?

Well, is it too much to ask for your love? Is it, or is it not?

© Khushi Suneja