The Window Seat

By Sanjana Shome

He makes me laugh, he makes me cry

He forces me hollow and leaves me dry.

Sometimes it's cold and sometimes it's warm

But most of the time it's all just wrong.

Is it the way he looks at me or holds me close

Or the way he treats me with no remorse.

It really is unfair of him to make me feel this way

But I still want to stay till each hair greys.

I'm a fool to think he’s to change 

When in the end I'm the one left rearranged.

He begs, he pleads to make me stay 

And every time like a tool, I give way.

I hold onto the sun-kissed memories 

Trying to ignore being treated like one of his accessories.

Maybe it's true I am nothing but his golden doll

To be dragged around in those decorated, cold halls.

I’m not sad or angry, just tired 

But I still can't get away from being desired.

I sit by the window every day

Hopelessly waiting for wings to fly away.

By Sanjana Shome