You used to read me, 

Like you know my lines by heart.

Now you don't even reckon,

The language I am written.

Now you make me cry,

And you don't stay to wipe the tears.

You believe an 'it's OK',

But how can I be?

Ask yourself, Is it really because you believe?

Or is it just that you don't care?

When will you understand, 

The trap where I stand.

Where I wish you read me:

I forgot to speak!

My thoughts can't make a voice,

It may sound vile  to you:

But read it and you'll know,

The pain you put me through.

Now I speak to you,

I try to aver  the love and pain.

All you understand is a broken phase,

Palaver of a lassie, dazed!

And then you find me lousy, Plead is all I do,

Fathom the will of the words, and not the words therein!

Maybe, it will remain a reverie,

You decoding the cryptic code for me.

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Quote:

"There is no fire like lust, no vice like hatred, no trap like delusion and no river like craving"-Thich Nhat Hanh.

Written for a 'he' in hope he would address it someday.

~Chaahat