by Meena Krish   Oct 14, 2016

The man who lives
between my penned lines
made me betray buried feelings,
without a fight he effortlessly stole
my heart with fiery truths and
drew out the spring which was left to die;

This thief inside my book
lit a fire which can not be quenched
by my frosty world,
instead replaced my winter with
his raging name;

My pen finds an inspirational taste
for this thief, without rest it
consumes page after page
burning the midnight oil;

He has caged me with him
between each line and dreams
leaving me with sighs
to fill this life...


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Latest Comments

  • 1 year ago

    by Em

    Meena, this is so sad because many women (and men) can relate to these kinds of human if you can even call them that.

    Great, powerful write.

  • 1 year ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Hello Meena,

    Lovely to see a new poem from you, albeit, a rather dark one!
    I suppose all that can be taken from someone like this is the inspiration they leave you to write with. Although, I do not doubt that most people would sacrifice a good poem if it meant the hurt was not an issue...

    I hope you are keeping well, Meena.

    Take care,


  • 1 year ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Hello Meena,

    Although sad, these words describe in delectable detail a tale of the worst type of man. A man who masquerades as a decent human being. Once under their spell, they tease out secrets and then use them as weapons against their victim.

    The trouble with these men is, long after they dissappear, their damage continues, like burning embers eating all that matters.

    A chilling write.

    Take care Meena and stay strong.

    Michael x

  • 1 year ago

    by William Mae

    Wow what and amazing write, it's so beautiful, I love this poem, it will be a favorite of mine from now on.