Let yourself free from this world of sadness where your thoughts afloat and your anxieties grab your soul and push you further into the dark.
Let yourself free from the tiny shell that you have confined yourself in.
Let yourself free from the company of your best friend, loneliness. Let go of her, move on for once.
Let yourself free from all this mess, from your materialistic self.
Let yourself free.
For once atleast.
Offend me? I swear.
Offend my bestfriend? Don’t you dare.
What we gossip about? Don’t you worry.
Mess with us? You’d be sorry.
Think we’re cool? Yeah, you’re right.
Think we’re not? We’d be in a fight.
Wanna be with us? Please, don’t you interfere.
Wanna be like us? No, you just can’t, dear.
You adore us? Good.
You don’t? You should.
Wonder why we’re always together? Yes, we’re inseparable.
Wonder why I chose her? well she’s so adorable.
Do we ever fight?Yes, all the time.
Wanna fight with her too? Nope, she’s mine.
My bestfriend is my soulmate, I say with zest.
Don’t you call yours cooler, cause my bestfriend is the best.
Your love tried to take the credit of my poetry. But unfortunately, my dear, it were your scars that compelled me to write.
I wonder if you look at yourself in the mirror and feel the same. Do you feel the way I feel? No, you don’t. You don’t have the scars to hide, or the marks to run away from.
I was never ever so pretty as much as you made me feel one day. Just like I was never ever this unfortunate as much as I felt this day.
You never ever even touched me. Yet, you left your marks. Now your scars lie all over my hands and legs, marks on my face, and bruises on my neck.
Do you have anything to regret? I hope you do. And I hope it’s the scars you are the most regretful of.
Roses are flawed.
Violets are blemished.
The people I loved and cared for,
Are the one that actually vanished.
© Khushi Suneja
Wake me up, when we’re done.
No longer in this war that we earlier begun.
Wake me up, as this gets over.
No one bitter; just love leftover.
Wake me up, as soon as we progress.
When we get up, get over this mess.
Wake me up, as we finish it for ever.
Even if we die in attempts to endeavour.
Wake me up, when I no longer see them dead.
All good, as we move ahead.
Wake me up, when everythin’s alright.
Back in shape, as we give up the fight.
Wake me up, as my kid arrives.
My wife no longer praying that I survive.
Wake me up, when we finally act sane.
Not the monsters, that suck on brains.
Wake me up, when everyone’s fine.
Celebrating the win, chucking on wine.
Wake me up, when we’re no longer in pain.
As the war, dies again.
Wake me up, when we all end up alive.
As through the situation, we soon contrive.
Wake me up, as we unite.
And if we reach back our homes tonight.
I have never been loved.
Why do you feel so? Replied the boy.
I don’t have a hand to hold this fall. With the leaves that are shedding, shed my self confidence and hope. No one to wipe my tears and say that I’m pretty. Look me into the eyes with utmost love, embrace my flaws and promise to love me till the next fall and many more. No one. None.
But what if you’re not able to see the love through your despairing eyes?
Am I really that unfortunate to not sense the love that exists? Am I really that flawed to not notice the one who loves(me)?
Not unfortunate, my love. Just despaired. He thought.
Look at those unfortunate trees, shedding the leaves with teary eyes but with the hope that they’ll retreat the next spring.
Well I have no one to hope for to come back. No one to say goodbye to, with the hope that they’ll come back.
The one who actually loves, will never leave, Susan. You wouldn’t ever have any goodbyes to give, a kiss to spare, or a hand to wave. Believe me. He’ll stay. All you have to do is remain like a tree, waiting for your hope and love to grow back like the leaves. Said the boy to the girl he loved.
Well, will you?
Will I what?
Will you stay?
Yes, had I loved you. He said, with a voice almost cracking, sweaty palms and teary eyes.
She cried a little and he smiled.
As he left for Vietnam, he waved at her as she waved back and he turned his head. She waved while muttering a love you behind his back.
As he muttered a love you too.
And so she waited like a tree in the fall, seeing her favourite flower gloom, waiting for the spring to come and bring him along.
©Khushi Suneja
Love is an indescribable feeling.
Not many people in this world know what ‘being in love’ actually feels like. I didn’t know it, either … until I met her.
I came here in New Jersey, about 3 months ago and instantly fell in love with her.
Her, Stephanie.
Well, not my fault really. Anybody can fall in love with her real quick. You would have known, had you had met her too. Moreover, she has those wonderful, sparkling brown eyes that can get anyone mesmerized within seconds. Perhaps, the spell that those eyes casted, had simply worked on me!
So now, while I stand in the balcony, I notice Mrs. Norms coming out into her garden, most likely to water the plants.
“Good morning, Mrs. Norms.” I wave at her.
She reciprocates with a wonderful smile, enough to make anyone’s day brighter. I smile back at her and she resumes her work.
Very lovely people they are, Mrs. and Mr. Norms. They adopted Stephanie at the age of 3 and loved her like their own child ever since. They’re wonderful, aren’t they?
Soon, I spot Stephanie coming out of the house, for, perhaps, a few minutes. I smile at the sight of hers coming. I wave at her to get her attention. She notices me and smiles. I smile some more. And then, without a word, she goes back in. I too, then, retreat, back into the house.
Darn, I just recalled, my mom had asked me to clean the storeroom.
Oh boy, there we go…
As I cleared the storeroom, I saw a bunch of old newspapers lying about. I randomly picked one out and began reading a news that lied on the front page.
Stephanie, a homeless, 3-year-old golden retriever, who was battling with severe cold and hunger on the streets of New Jersey, after being brutually left alone by her actual owners, has found solace at last. She has been rescued and adopted by a lovely, young couple.
Yeah, that’s my Stephanie.
My love, next door.
© Khushi Suneja
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