The Lonely Woman's Poem

The loneliness epidemic

takes its toll

trapped in a utopia

called happily ever after

there is no today

the tea is stale

the books, the words

the lists, the voices

all stink

of uselessness

Someone's says-

"Blessing is..."

and I think of

the could have beens

the books I never wrote

the child I almost had

the dreams I postponed

Now this is an elaborate 

funeral ceremony

I bury myself

molecule by molecule

till you will one day

write obituaries

and know how much

my loneliness weighed.

Bruises on the soul

On a swing

with gentle hands of time

he pushed her

wind in her hair

the lightness of being

called love

and then all of a sudden

he withdrew the hand

from her back

the swing

slowed down

She fell

on a hard fact

with a thud

winter is not 

a good season

for bruises

on the soul !

It is & I am not

It is customary

to hide pain

say "I'm fine"

and smile again

It is polite

to keep a stoic face

when your world

is falling apart

around you

in vain

It is brave

to let it all go

to see what stays

and then have it all

go away

it is

it is

it is

I am not.