You Told Me

The brightest of stars is not compatible to my physique

The pilgrims and the wanderers, in me would find what they seek


But then you faltered, perhaps not knowing the monumentality of words

You didn’t know I idolise them the way the disenchanted sky is for caged birds.

I said

I can neither fathom nor comprehend

Is it an attempt to look deep into the aged wounds and mend?

But my walls aren’t tamed; they know when to hold themselves in contempt

They daren’t stir, for many a times they’ve paid the price of moving ascent.


You couldn’t say

For you knew all too well that this ‘phase’ shall too pass

Yet you faked it all, in the fear of sounding superficial and crass.


It ended up to nothing but a game of pretence

Laced with secrecy, shaded and shrouded with deception, dense.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *