Torn

Torn and tattered I lie down there

Near the bin, crushed

In hotel rooms with phone numbers on me

Or in the the schools with love letters I breathe

With every tears I soak

With every lip paint I smear

I know the depth of pain she wears

In her trembling hands, turning

I feel her heart burning

Torn and tattered I lie down there.

To see her nose leak adding on to her flaws

she is tired yet never gives up on me

Agitated to look herself into the mirror

Pale and dark she smudges the kohl

Ugly and befuddled she holds me tight

And down again I go near the bin, crushed

With all her pains and tears flushed

Nobody knows what she’s been through

I am a keeper, a paper of words

I won’t  let her secrets out

I’ll cry my tears when I see her fake smiles so loud.

 

 

 

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10 thoughts on “Torn”

  1. Such things are usually found in the pages of one’s rough register or safely between books, say Science NCERT for instance. 🙂 or torn and tattered left somewhere crushed. But remember, there is someone anxious to read each and every line, each and every word. One who takes a glimpse at the right moment just to know everything that is written. That curiosity to know ^all of what you write^ …

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Who cares.
      Its all between the battles you fight between what you think, what you expect and what the reality is. And nobody would ever understand the consequences of such battles.
      It leaves you staid and yes, torned.
      Nobody cares.

      Like

      1. Yeah exactly its just you and yourself. you can’t be dependent on someone but having a support never harms. whatever the consequences be, YOU win or YOU lose. Its just about you. Agreed. but that battle isn’t wothy if it leaves you torn. Secondly, how does it matter if someone cares or not and then how do you know whether one cares or not?

        Liked by 1 person

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