All my emotions are mummified
Every time I read a poem
It tells me a story from the past
I won’t destroy my poems on you
Though it was all a lie to you
For me, all my emotions were true
When I grow old, grow out of the hurt
I’ll read these poems to myself
And recall what had been, long ago
I know the scars would still be visible
I know it will refresh my memories
But then, what else can be the best use of past?
No hard feelings, no tears, no pain then,
I’d laugh at my emotions, as I recall
When I open the mummified memories
BhaShe
Every time I read a poem
It tells me a story from the past
I won’t destroy my poems on you
Though it was all a lie to you
For me, all my emotions were true
When I grow old, grow out of the hurt
I’ll read these poems to myself
And recall what had been, long ago
I know the scars would still be visible
I know it will refresh my memories
But then, what else can be the best use of past?
No hard feelings, no tears, no pain then,
I’d laugh at my emotions, as I recall
When I open the mummified memories
BhaShe
Dedicated: To that one person who was good and bad at the same time, for a very short time!
3 comments:
nice one.
A short entry and exit of someone will always leave their foot print over life.
Touched poem.
Miracles do happen. Not bonkers. I like, I like.
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