If I had been able to sleep without your dreams, my nights would’ve been better.
If you could just get out of my head, the voices could stop.
If you decide to just fade away, I could be whole again.
But you don't, you decide to whisper in my ears every night how lonely I am.
Now I can’t write poetry about you or anyone in particular.
All I have left is my blood to sign a contract.
Clearly, you see me as a miserable fellow since you don’t hold my hand anymore.
Or don’t even hug me when you see me on the streets passing by your home.
When I had you in my arms, time stopped for me, but for you, it passed rapidly.
And you pushed me back a little, because you felt disgusted, I seem.
If only you'd fallen a little more, there would be more pages written for you.
But it’s still more than all the letters I wrote to grief about you.
I don’t know who you’ll be when I meet a new person.
But I would like it if you could be a little more gentle.
Take the body of a person who’s strong enough to accept their flaws, or maybe discard them.
Maybe how about someone who works in a library and sips coffee in the morning?
Who plays moves so amazing and takes my side as a queen to my chessboard?
Who also speaks classical and loves flowers like a gardener?
Whose eyes are more majestic than your previous self?
And understands me like Milena.
Oh! Love, make sure you come meet me next time, as I don’t know your address anymore.

~Suraj Rajvanshi

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© Suraj Rajvanshi