Under the blanket in chilling winter,
I write my poetry although my hands shiver,
Fingers have frozen like a stone,
My heart is still pumping blood in vein,
A memory from the past keeps me awake,
A memory that I try every night to forget,
Once I too had someone to express,
A special one to listen all my interests,
All I have now is my loneliness and my dreams,
I scare to share my thoughts no matter how mature it seems,
Evenings got washed, nights got changed,
Days passed, months did, years they became,
Writing kept me hooked all these years,
A purpose to live despite all the tears,
No drinks, yet I am addicted,
Noone around, yet I am seduced,
Now poetry is my life, poetry is my love,
I ain’t pleased with any other stuff,
I have found a new way to express,
Feelings that would otherwise have been dumped in distress.
At least it will never leave me ever,
I can write my heart out forever.
Copyright © 2016, Aashish Barnwal, All rights reserved.