I won’t write love stories

I don’t want to
write about his eyes
or about him to be precise

I wish to write about
the unfair world,
who treats everyone
on the basis of their status

I want to write about
that hungry
lusty wolf
who broke the trust
of his own friend
I want to sharpen my
words,
sharp enough to
cut his skin
and want to see him bleed

I want to write about
the way someone’s heart healed
and how they are a warrior now

I want to write about
the hatred, spread
over this beautiful planet
across every length and breadth
I want to address
every part of me
that triggers
that hurts,

the pain of others
that makes
me restless,
gives me
sleepless nights

I want to write
about that
teenager
still unable to
call himself a guy or a girl
and want to question
who laughs at him
and then
I will write courage
and leave for him
beside his pillow
and the next morning
he might be able
to choose for himself
blue or pink,
or maybe both

no, I won’t write love stories

I will live them,
even if I will
ever have one
and if I won’t
I am done crying
over petty men

I have to address life,
stare into her eyes
I have to ask questions, right
I have to write hatred,
riots, politics, injustice

I will have to write every filth and dirt
which I never wanted
and always looked at the world
with rose-tinted glasses

after all,
you have to get your hands dirty
to clean the dirt
I have to fight back

no, I won’t write love stories

Image source:alamy stock photos

36 thoughts on “I won’t write love stories

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