Today’s re-blog is this charming and meaningful work by poet Samartha Ingle. Thanks, Samartha.
In love, at peace.
Is it wrong to want alone.
To not miss and not be missed.
To want nothing and no one more.
Liar people say, liar maybe.
Refusing to acknowledge
this internal commotion
leads to dry eyes,
as dry as the ocean.
Liar you say, liar maybe.
At times it gets lonely,
at times of peace.
My heart for this,
my soul for this.
Liar they say, liar maybe.
Childhood heart didn’t
crave it as much.
Pushed in it still,
circumstances and such.
Liar again ? liar maybe.
In love with the word,
at peace with the world.
Alone, though never lonely.
Liar ! liar indeed.
SOMETIMES 