Your City

Had I ever missed to feel, for an early recovery,
of a stranger, in an ambulance passing by?
Yes! And probably all the time.

However strong, mentally, I pretend to myself,
and sometimes to others as well,
when the corporeal us, breaks down,
pile of medicines, tens of prescriptions,
bunch of foods, which are supplementary.
Nothing helps….!

Perhaps, the cure is something else, but
No one there, to say, or to wish,
or to text me, ‘get well soon dear!’

This city, if not rejected at once,
has also not accepted me yet.

To hate you or love

Truly, you are not beautiful.
The absence of even a tiny smile
On that face of yours,
add more to the ugliness.
Or rather overly loaded with depression,
haunts me now and all time.

I hate those intentional smirks
On that ugly face.
The step by step switching
Between a fake smile and represion
Nothing frustrates me more than it.

And I still wonder, everyday
what is that of you,
to which, beats this heart.