He called me ugly

At this hour of night

There is always a feeling of something amiss

Which sets in like darkness settling in after sunsets

When you ask me what’s wrong, i always blame the rains

And maybe that’s true

Maybe rains make me sick

Maybe i want to hug the morning light only if i could drag myself out of bed

Maybe i lied to you

Maybe because when it rains it washes away the dirt and brings to surface

Maybe that’s the reason i keep writing poetry

To keep alive the pain because words don’t come easily.

They travel, travel to the time when be said i looked ugly at the aisle and he wanted to run away

They travel, travel to the time when he said i looked ugly because bulges came in the way of love

They travel, travel to the time when he said i looked ugly exactly on a day i felt beautiful

I always end up wandering to say hello to the first light

And i always end up keeping the grief silently

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