My Tears Have Dried...

My tears have dried, no more weeping
For the ones who turned their backs,
The ones I nurtured in their darkness,
While they hid their cowardice,
Pretending to be a light,
Yet casting shadows on my soul.

I listened when they had no one to call,
Gave my heart to those who risked my health,
All the fake well-wishers,
Friends in name only,
So-called lovers with their shameful confessions,
Thinking I would be their soft landing,
Never judging, never condemning.

But now, I fiercely guard my peace,
My energy, my soul—
To all of you, I say,
Fuck off!
I’m not that caring woman anymore,
Not your emotional sponge,
Not your therapist in disguise.

Dare to call me anything but my name?
I’ll sever the ties that bind,
Chop off the words that make you feel like a man.
When you couldn’t take no for an answer,
Didn’t see my discomfort,
An awful man claiming to be THE MAN,
Who says he has a sister,
Yet doesn’t care for another's daughter.

Respect is not a gift, it’s a right,
If you can’t honour women in general,
Forget about respect for your own mother.
My tears have dried,
And with them, the weight of your shame.
I rise, stronger, unyielding,
No longer bound by your false light.

~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

Comments

My Tips Get The Job Done

Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE works. You get high on your stupid WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach me about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my ladyfingers ...

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Call Your Wife... Call Your Mother...

Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

Cruising Alone

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