Monday, November 2, 2015


One of the many online quizzes that I take in good humor tells me this: The hidden weakness of your subconscious mind is fear of Betrayal.

Quite coincidentally, I had completed writing the following poem two only nights ago:

I miss you every night, when I  am in my bed, warm and tight;
My pillow turns into your shoulder and my blanket into your warm embrace,
but I still miss your chest upon which I used to rest my face;

I close my eyes and pretend things are same and you are still my friend;
I want to believe there is nothing between us, neither hurt nor malice,
nor are there two broken hearts to mend;

I still believe like every day you will return to me in the middle of the night,
and slip into the bed next to me without even turning on the light, 
then you will hold me gently and say: baby, you make my life beautiful and bright everyday;

I smile imagining what my friends would say, when I tell them what we talk of night and day,
will they laugh, will they tease, or will they envy me for the compliments you pay;
And then the truth strikes me much to my dismay, that far from my life you have now gone away;

I feel warm drops trickle down from the sides of my eyes, wetting the pillow where my head rests;
Even as I twist and turn in my bed, longing for your arms, your shoulders, and your chest,
I know you are with someone else, putting her love through a similar test.

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