Perhaps...

Perhaps she loves a little excessively,
cause she was loved a little less.
perhaps she likes clearing your head,
cause her mind's in such a mess.
Maybe she clings long and hard
to souls that give her love,
cause the one soul who loved her much
was taken early above.
What if her search for comfort,
stems from a lack of care,
from all the love she didn't receive,
from lovers who were't really there.
Consider maybe she's lost too much,
love, soul, words and touch
and maybe she feels responsible
to make up for all the loss in the 'verse
and reverse hate for those feeling cursed.
Perhaps her happy smile is a strong disguise,
of the heavy soul that holds on to demise
and maybe it's anything but wise
to repress sadness, behind joyful eyes.
Perhaps she is sick of losing,
and sick of bruising,
and so very tired of choosing
between dealing with her anger
or hiding it away,
that she's chosen a coping mechanism
that's stronger in a way.
She loves like she'll never run out,
her soul, friendly and devout,
Perhaps you need to give her a chance,
to sing with your soul, and lead the dance.

Things I won't write

I won't write about how toxic you are to me
and how you believe so strongly we'll never be.
I won't write about your manipulative ways,
and that passive aggressive phase.
I won't write about those days,
when you chose another over me,
and went at it secretly.
I won't write about how some days you loved me less,
and someday you called my life a mess.
I won't write about how you pushed me away,
when I was the only friend willing to stay.
I won't write about how you belittle me every second day.
I won't write about how I bent backwards for you,
often went out of my way
and I definitely won't write about how you grew less caring day by day,
I won't write about how you let me slip away,
and I won't even think of mentioning
that dreaded Saturday.
I won't waste a post ranting,
about the things you do that madden me.
challenge me,
frustrate me.
and really, I should hate you
and you, me.
But I don't
I won't.
I won't write about how inspite of all of this
you need me, you want me.

I won't write about how you don't say it enough of times,

And how you've never been good with words or rhymes,

and I'm a fool for you and those rare small moments

When our hearts, souls and thoughts align.

I won't write about how you annoy me.

And I won't write about how I love you,

Truly, madly, deeply.

Phew!
So much for not writing.

Convenient

You're used to me now,
so used to me.
You don't even see half the things you mean to me.
You've begun to take for granted,
the seeds of trust we planted,
The ones that sadness rains over,
the very same that I now hope
brings luck of a 3 leaf clover.
Lover,
I've turned as obsolete as your phone wallpaper,
pretty for the world to see,
but used just to drop the necessities
so that their easy to reach,
Convenient.
I don't remember the last time you cared,
to ask about my day.
I do remember however,
sharing anyway.
We used to be the ocean
calm though blue.
Every ripple and wave we lived through,
pushing each other along,
Amidst the merciless winds of a storm, strong.
I've become now,
a sense of a falling character-graph,
that part in a novel,
when you watch a lead slip away,
when its nightfall and he doesn't want to see the day.
This charade we have, it's all just swordplay.
It's about strategy and love
and the decisions we pick and choose.
One of us will hurt the other,
But both of us will surely lose.

Unsung Cheerleaders

I see you, I see you standing there
beside the battle field,
as much fear in your eyes as there is in my heart
But you've been cheering me on from the very start.
I draw my faith from you,
You keep pushing me ahead.
That fire in your eyes,
Is the fire that led
me to be more than who I am.
And I showed them,
I won.
They lifted me off the ground,
crowds cheered my name
For I had won the game.
You exist,
And many exist because of you.
Because you make it your duty,
To close your eyes and pray
For your friends and the needy,
And the storms they face each day.
You dear,
are humble, and wishing only for good
you are often misjudged, misunderstood,
inadequately acknowledged, never heard about

but of the power of your prayers I have no doubt.
You should be the star,
The winner of it all.
It is you who held me up when I fell my hardest fall,
You don't want it, you don't want the attention,
But I wish anyway, to make this mention.
For if we don't thank you now,
We may never end up doing it at all.
And you deserve every bit of praise,
for your words and deeds, big or small.

Readers, I ask that you let these cheerleaders know
that their work behind the scenes, helps us run the show.
You, dear cheerleader, are my unsung hero.
I thank you for always pushing me on,
And keeping me strong,
And correcting me when I go wrong
for making me feel belonged
Thank you, dear friend
for cheering me all along.

Wrong.

If Love and Timing were the best of friends
you'd still be my miracle when the day ends
we would never have to wait for love
or give up on it's magic
we would never have to end up
with an aching heart and a love-story just as tragic
You and I could be the smell of spring after a cold winter spell
you could be the love story I'd alter into a fairy-tale to tell.
Well,
If Love and Timing were the best of friends
love stories wouldn't require amends
You would be mine, no matter the year, no matter the time
regardless of every person that stood in our way
and every obstacle-filled day
No matter if you were right for me
no matter all I left behind for you
no matter if I said the right words
though at the wrong time.
For even the wrong words deserve a chance at a rhyme
If Love and Timing were the best of mates
you and I wouldn't have to blame our fates
for holding us apart and teasing the heart
you and I could have been closer at the start
before we cursed destiny and powers above
before we gave up on ever falling in love
If Love and Timing could just get along
you and I could be where we belong.
You and I could stop being wrong.