Each second marks
the number of times
you thought of them today.
Yet you are 86,400 times
and a lifetime away
to make them yours.
As fascinated it is to
look at the stars
It’s terrifying to know
those are mere a collection
of dust and gas from up close.
So, when you are near them
You know—they are nothing.
Even when you move a mountain
in front of their doorway
as they like hills,
They don’t step out in their balcony
to witness the efforts of your mutilated heart.
You bring a whole garden
and spring to them but
it’s not their time
nor any intention to bloom
They peel off their skin so often,
the skin you spent years to get under
that you become a stranger
standing under the same umbrella.
A person in your imagination
is so different than in real life
and is usually the ambassador
of delivering pain to you
while you manifested Earth’s flowers for them.
You are their dream catchers.
And for them you are an occasional décor.
And you wonder what did you do wrong?
It’s cause,
people don’t love you
the way you love them.
©kanikachugh