I stare out of my window
With the little faith left in me
I berate myself
For even thinking about you.
In this turmoil state
All I find is misery.
I abominate myself
For still having hope on you.
Are you ever coming back?
I stare out of my window
To find a disappointed me.
I question myself,
If it is still the right thing!
I fancy the euphoria
That would engulf me
The day you come back again
Or is it too late
To even keep hope on you?
Or should I let go
The things I held onto for so long?
I stare out of my window
Even if it seems implausible,
Forgetting how to be exuberant anymore,
Forgetting how to even smile!
I writhe and wince to my sleep
Remorse has eventually got the best of me.
And then again I ask myself,
Would you have waited?
Had you been in my place
Or would you have given up,
Had I been the one to let you go?
Love is a spiritual experience, it can be whimsical and temperamental, coming unannounced and may leave without warning. Hope is a good breakfast but also a bad supper. A lovely piece of poetry nicely penned from the heart. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
It pays to hold on to hope, I liked the way you mirrowed what the heart feels
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hope is often an illusion and ifs are always counterproductive, yet we humans persist. Thanks for sharing, Sharma. Peace