Leave a comment

15/09/2010 by Siddiqui Fayesal

While I walked the thin line between my
dreams and reality, a little thing I left behind.
Fragments of my soul broke down and parted
from the cramp space of my vestiges.

I tried to catch them before they cheated me.
Like I’d kept them bound for years,
Like I’d forced them to be a part of me…
and like they’d never wanted to.

How was I to know that my Soul had a mind of its own.
A mind that chose its own master.
How was I to know that the long shadows
I walked under were not mine to take.

For who could tell that my relation with her
was just something that she would one day throw away.
I was always scared of being wrong when I was with her.
So scared that I worried that she’d walk away.

I played to her desires, to her fancy and
expected a pat on my back when she was done.
All she’d do was to look down at me and smile a smile
which said such truth but which I feared to read.

So I’d read them in fashions to my liking.
And because I liked the truth that I read I learnt them by rote.
I repeated them with glee every time
she smiled that smile for me.

For all those days when she saw me with dewy eyes
I promised her that I’d be whatever she chose for me.
She chose a man very unlike myself.
She chose a part of me that she hated herself.

Her smile was gone and so was the truth I’d wished was there.
In its place was an ugly lie. A lie which didn’t leave my truth a space.
A lie which told so harsh a truth that my eyes
couldn’t fashion another in its place.

The tragic death of us was due to the man I couldn’t be.
She hurled abuses and asked my why I’d changed
And why my eyes did not see.
But she forget that she chose what she wanted me to be.

Siddiqui Fayesal

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


  • 11,290 hits

Click! Click! Click!

Join 234 other followers

Jump to…




You will die the way you lived.

Aamil Syed

altered reality

The Mundane

Finding poetry in the ordinary.


...a whole buncha Tian'ness.


book reviews and more...


Indian Book Blogger | Poet | Short Story Writer

Get Out Harish

The world within three walls


لفلسطين الحرية

Murphy's Law

Musings from a Literacy Coach

Literature Is My Porn

"She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live."

Three Magical

Welcome to the inside of my head.

Scattered Brain

Musings about life and politics


Bridge the Gap , Bring the Change

| Ramble On |

And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods

The writer gives life to a story, the reader keeps it alive.

Ashish Shakya

Writer. Stand-Up Comic. Gulab Jamun Enthusiast.

schizophrenic dreams

It is Dark, and I like it that way...


... well we're going to die anyway!

Pulp & Fiction

We all change when you think about it. We’re all different people, all through our lives, and that’s okay, that’s good. You gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be.

reading interrupted.

because reading also involves the way your head rests on your hand as you lean over a book, the damp mark you leave on a page when reading in the tub, or being interrupted by a

--- Grumpy Comments ---



Sharing knowledge benificial for duniya & akhira

Dad, the idiot

anchoring households for thousands of years

Yeha, Whatever

I'll write it anyway.

My Musings

Simply Put....its a conglomeration of my thoughts as & when they occur

%d bloggers like this: