Eve

I wonder what happens to the modern day Eve,
Who bites the apple from the sacred tree,
Like a burnt tongue touching some hot tea,
What will be the punishment of being in love since three.
The gods did what they do the best,
They cursed the humans with love but least,
I touch a man and he turns to a mannequin,
A human with no love to return, just as human-less.
I wonder what Eve would've done,
When she realised she bit the apple.
I wonder what I could've done,
When he held my wrist and plunged his lips on me,
Calling this love when I pushed him away.
I wonder what will he tell me next,
A crimson kiss or my anxiety is a kill,
Or that forced love is love, nevertheless.
I counted till four, the last time I met you,
You held my wrist and called me a whore.
You told me it was my anxiety that separated us,
My craziness, the way I put my heart above.
I wonder if the God cursed us with love,
Or if they showered it on us, as a bliss.
You whispered in ear telling me I am a slut,
When I pushed you away when I saw my heart cut,
And the wrist that was slaughtered as the side effect,
Do you realise how many lives your words take.
Right where you plunged your lips on me,
I promise you my crimson kisses will stain your soul someday .
I know we ate the apple and the deeds done,
And now all of the world is pissed by us,
So when we love, we create our happy story,
But through the same love, we watch it get destroyed.

What you really like

No really, what was it that you thought,
Were your humanly intention towards all of it false?
Did you think you can chew poetry,
And spill out art?
But really, what was it that you thought?
Since age of 7, I scribble words together to make sense,
Through an awkward teenage of joining stanzas for the same.
Because in layers you can do and undo me,
I almost feel like a library.
There are parts of me you can pick and unpick,
Pieces of me you can read and borrow.
I know that I don't own these feelings like the fictional characters,
But neither do you, for you borrowed.
Since eight, I've been clenching dreams in my fist,
A weapon of my choice, a pen filled with some ink.
Since whenever I can remember,
I've had a war inside my head;
To write, create, implement and to be read.
So tell me if we rebel and call it art,
Or they're just words kept unorganised in a cart.
For in the meadows and the shadows, I still write,
Just to know what is it that you really like? 

It isn't gray Anymore

It isn't gray anymore,
The first smile and the heartbreak,
In every man, I seek to find you,
The colors, your colors, they still live.
It isn't reticent anymore,
The first laughter and the last goodbye,
It echoes within the sound of every human I meet,
The voices, the loud noises, they never shut down.
It isn't numb anymore,
The feelings and the emotions,
I let out a cry each night before sleeping,
It still hurts, thinking of you.
It isn't sunny anymore,
The day, your face and the beam of hopes,
A fidgeting finger in dilemma of writing to you,
It's just a bundle of pain wrapped in honey now.
It isn't gray anymore,
And neither is it reticent,
It isn't numb anymore,
And it doesn't stop hurting.
It isn't gray anymore,
Though every night I wish it was.