I've been expecting you.

23 Feb 2012

The Day I Knew I Wasn't A Poet

I will never be good enough
For you.
These words
Are dirt.
Compared to her words of gold.

I cannot write about politics and drama and Bollywood and come up with witty one-liners or write monologues and digress occasionally.
My words are no more than what I feel.
My words are what I feel.
Feelings?
"Amateurs write about their feelings when they write poetry."
I should have learnt to dress up the 'I' in six foot long red silk cloth.
Unrecognisable.
I failed.

We will never have a fight
Over you.
Because I quietly dug a grave for my 12 day dream and laid it to rest.
Newly-dead.

The first day I saw you
I knew you were too good to be true.
But I buried you under.
And I never looked back and I never missed it.

Till today.
When I saw and smelt and felt
What it is that will never be mine.

A quiet devotion
flared up from nowhere and engulfed my left brain.

If I didn't know better
I'd say I'm hopelessly devoted to you now.
I don't want to write.
I don't want to win.
But please, please, please
Let me stay
here.

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