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Literature

Selfish

2 Mins read

BY KAURRWAKI KOTECHA

My hand glides over the paper,
strokes staining the white sheet
imperfect, unreadable
is it more like you ,
or more like me?
I can’t help but wonder.
one minute, you’re it.
the definition of perfect.
flawless,
like a blank sheet of pure white.


The next,
I see a flaw.
one, that I fall in love with.
how can I not?
it’s a part of you.
and then,
when I see you again with another flaw that I accepted,
you’re perfect, again.

And as I write this poetry on you,
I can’t describe it
I think , if I can ever feel
the indescribable happiness people talk about
when someone they love, tell them they love them too

I imagined it once .
imagined the rush of colour to my cheeks,
the pounding of my heart
the energy in my body and
the tingles on my skin .

Once I did,
I couldn’t wait for you to say it
a fairytale, what it was
the idea of love kept me in love with you
but somehow, I forgot,
life wasn’t one
that there was a possibility
you may never say it back to me

no one ever made a word ,
for the indescribable pain I felt when I looked in the mirror
thinking
what I lacked ,
for you not to see me the way I do you
and my knees buckle ,
counting the flaws I have
compared to your perfect picture

I understand how the ink feels, staining the paper
my tears do not comply with my will
eyes, numb
and I convince myself
that I hate you
what I can’t answer , is why
is it for making me fall for you?
or not falling back for me?

Or I deny,
deny the fact that you may never love me
as I do,
I bury my love ,
in the deepest corner of my heart ,
running back to you.
it’s a loop, that I can’t get out of.

Perhaps,
I’m scared of losing you
of not loving someone else
of having to wonder,
that if I had held on, I would have had you

In the process,
how much I lose myself to you, everyday
I forget who I am,
what I like,
memorising everything you do, like and are.
neither do I want to lose myself completely,
nor do I want to let you go

I feel the dilemma
eating me from the inside and
yet again
I choose you
and as I finish this poetry
adding to a stack
I hope for you to feel this pain I feel
everyday
selfish , I know
but,
is it?

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