To Bougainvillea and Bits of My Heart

On Sunday, we watch the sun go down
In the silence of this little lost town
Tuesday when you first call me sweetheart
To bougainvillea and bits of my heart.
Your smile meets your eyes, you laugh at a joke
Appear out of nowhere, disappear into smoke
And you leave me blushing every time you depart
To bougainvillea and bits of my heart.
On Thursday morning, you ask me to be yours
Over pancakes and bedsheets and emptied drawers
To kissed beginnings, this state of art
And bougainvillea and the beat of my heart.
Here are flowers and fires and rooms painted blue
You’re falling in love, should I jump in, too?
All I have is paper flowers and your plastic art
And bougainvillea and bits of my heart.
We run into clouds and kiss in the rain
You bring me the sunshine, take away the pain
I try and I try but the strings come apart
To bougainvillea and bits of my heart.
It is Friday when you leave me where I don’t want to be,
Lock away your doors, and you take away your key
You pack away your things, it’s time for a fresh start
To bougainvillea and bits of my heart.
I loved you so fiercely, with all that I was
You thought I was perfect, brushed away all my flaws
I broke you to pieces, you tore me apart
To bougainvillea and bits of my heart.
And this is the story of how you walked away
Kissed me goodbye as I begged you to stay
I never thought I’d see the day that you depart
Of bougainvillea, when you broke my heart.

An Absolutely Gross Love Poem

Whispering on the phone, the night was dark
I could see you in my head, your hand placed on your heart
Blushing, turning red, tearing your knitted sweater apart
Simply because I called you sweetheart.
And the days were honey and orange back then,
Your questions turned into answers when
On a torn piece of paper, with a tired, broken pen
I wrote that nothing could ever be the same again.
On a November night, you showed up at the door
Dressed in yellow, eyes on the floor
“I was thinking of us and couldn’t sleep until four,
Am I just silly to want something more?”
You were young back then, only nineteen
So hopeful and quiet, beautiful and keen,
“We could get satin curtains, paint the walls green,
Hold on to each other, sleep facing the TV screen.”
Blue were the days when you thought I wouldn’t stay,
Your eyes teary, a challenge, asking me to run away,
But in the middle of the dark woods, we somehow found a way
My words became the music to which you could sway.
We stayed up all night, watching the indigo skies
You bubbled up as I watched you to see a laugh rise
The way you’re growing wiser every day, your small whispered lies
Your highs and lows, your fight, your bedroom eyes.
Those were the days of being unsure and afraid,
Nothing had ever felt so pure, not a moment I would trade
Between violet breaths and kisses, your blush begins to fade
I decided to love you once, on a cold, dark night–
And then nothing was ever the same.

A Man Who Loves A Man

There are things I’ve learnt
And things I’ve heard
To fall is to scrape your knee
To love is to hurt.
To be myself is dangerous, red
And a man who loves a man
Is as good as dead.
And no one knows what happens
Behind closed doors
It’s the only time I can hold your hand,
The one time that smiles aren’t forced.
And when we met, the stars had all
Fallen out of the sky
In the midst of everything crashing down,
I could suddenly fly.
But the stars– they never went back up
Defined our luck with every second that passed
And time, it stretched itself, in bed with a teacup
Yes, time, it could never catch up, be fast.
And we listened and listened all day
As people talked
And that– that was our first mistake
We were on borrowed time, a ticking clock.
But at night– your skin warm against mine
Everything and everything else fell into place again
You’d say it was all was fine,
We were just two men who loved men.
But it was all too much all at once
The day scribbled over our nights
Their whispers were louder than yours
Gone was your brightness and light.
And here we are now,
A box of my things in your hands:
A clean start, white walls, a new bed.
To love is to hurt, I’d always been told
And a man who loves a man is gone, he’s dead

#QueerPrideMonth #SaachiGupta #saachiisassified #not_a_pangloss #Bougainvilla #AnAbsolutlelyGrossLovePoem #ManWhoLovesAMan