You broke me, just like Lego Bricks.
You kept asking me to read Angels And Demons,
I kept denying you, like making you happy was a drudgery.
And as my eyes read your body for the last time,
The night melted into day,
But your scars will never fade away,
That May, you held my arms for the last time,
And your eyes begged me to save you,
Not loving you would always be my crime.
The silences you wrote your story with,
The numbness you fabricated into songs,
Will always occupy the depths of my mind.
I won’t stop, I won’t stop,
Until I have dissected all of your words,
Deciphered all of your symphonies,
Understood all of your silences,
Until every inch of mine is drenched in your numbness,
Until it indefinitely leaves an etch behind,
I won’t stop.
My pulse stops as your breathing does,
My will to live flows out of me,
Like your blood flows out of your veins.
The universe inside you struggles to breathe,
As you give up.
You give up.
You gave up.
You touched my wrists,
And left me an unearthed wire.
What do I do with all this electricity?
It’s killing me.
“It’s killing me,” I scream in the void,
But this time, you aren’t there to hold my hands.
This time, the void does not reply.
Tonight, I saw you again.
We watched that movie again,
We finished it this time,
You sang those songs again,
You played your part,
Proved your point,
You came and were gone like the wind,
There was no pause,
And the audience gave you one last standing applause.
I became a puppet to your scheme,
“It’s killing me,” I scream and scream,
And I woke up from my dream.
I saw you in my dream.
In my dream.
In my dream.
As I search for pieces of you,
As I look around for fragments of your love,
As I search for the memories of the days we spent together,
I only find,
My Lego Bricks.
You broke me, just like Lego Bricks.
Shruti Pandey has been writing since she was thirteen. She has a collection of poems which would easily sum up to form a book, however, she has very recently decided to try getting them published. None of her poems have been published anywhere before, they might be, she has submitted some of her poems to magazines just a week ago. If they are considered for publication before you could consider or deny it, and if they are the same poems she has sent to you, she will inform you the first thing. She is an unpublished poet as of now, however, poetry has always been her only dream, even in her hardest times, poetry was her only escape. I hope you like her poetry and consider it good enough for publication!