I celebrate broken promises |
you promised
you would come,
dine together
and play some.
you called
to say that you’re
in the elevator,
prompting stacks of
your favorites
out of refrigerator.
i waited in my new
embroidered gown,
until darkness descended
upon the small town.
when i called realizing
it must’ve been your elevator,
“sorry” is all you said to me,
and there it ended,
a magical night that could not be.
funny,
it didn’t make me angry or cry,
i did ask everything in the house
once, or maybe twice
if they could answer why.
all ganged up against me—
if you don’t know how would we
i was like—
fine, it was
just not meant to be.
i let the candles burn,
music play, and roses smile,
you see, i celebrate
even broken promises,
that’s just my style.
© r a m n a s h a r m a
© r a m n a s h a r m a
This poem is by Ramna Sharma from her debut poetry collection, Gritty Girl
path to success
is steep, winding
and laden with spikes,
there is no way
you can get there unhurt,
so prepare not only for rejoice
but also for rejuvenation.
success — ramna sharma