I'm told often,
My poems are sad,
My write touches
And my stories are incomplete.
Friends ask
Why I still have your stuff
When you're gone.
Why didn't I burn the pictures
In which we're still together.
Bhai says
I need to stop
Thinking,
Reacting to it,
And writing about it.
My heart tells me
That I deserve better,
tells me to really delete it all.
But,
I fail to convince all
that your stuff is reality to me,
introduces me to life.
Our pictures are reminder
to my conscious,
conveys me that nothing lasts forever
Not having you makes me realize,
that what one deserves
is not what one always wants.
And I fail to tell, even with
all broken pieces of my write
That to me, you are ceaseless.
To me, you are my poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My! ...what a poem! ... Excellently written sad poem, yes dear, nothing lasts forever and its natural. We just need to accept that and carry on with our lives, but it is very difficult I know. Its a cross road many of us been through, you'll also pull through but you'll always reminisce about those old memories. Siya_! !