I live
in the illusion,
dearer than
my thousand truths
But deep inside,
tells me a voice,
There is no substance
To back this lie.
I have been seeing things
The way my heart willed to.
Shutting the truth out,
Hoping for a miracle,
out of blue.
Pent up breath,
The ache,
at the base of the heart,
Tentative smile,
Sadly, but, a practiced art.
Frayed belief,
forlorn hope.
Something, but,
still sparks in my heart.
Don’t they say,
old habits die hard
in the illusion,
dearer than
my thousand truths
But deep inside,
tells me a voice,
There is no substance
To back this lie.
I have been seeing things
The way my heart willed to.
Shutting the truth out,
Hoping for a miracle,
out of blue.
Pent up breath,
The ache,
at the base of the heart,
Tentative smile,
Sadly, but, a practiced art.
Frayed belief,
forlorn hope.
Something, but,
still sparks in my heart.
Don’t they say,
old habits die hard
5 comments:
those r beautiful words....lovly ,
congrats
jean huret
Illusions rock.
Its been long since I read your writes. And I expected no less when I found your blog link again. Good work. :)
PS : This is Ashwin this side, from AP.
aapki poem ki kuch bhi samajh me nehi aati hai. sorry dont't mint but it's beautiful.
Thank you, folks :)
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