Cruising Alone

  Well, you’re lucky, I guess— That you never really got into me. Because what would’ve happened? I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing. These words? They don’t touch me. But your ego? That could use a little decomposing. If I were part of the problem, Then where does that leave you? Fumbling through good women, Yet you wonder why you always end up so blue. Oh, yeah— I howl under the full moon’s bloom, Preying and hunting for lamb skin. Aren’t you glad you caught on To my masks so thin? You took one for the team, boy. To you, I was always a faraway dream. Yeah, yeah—go play the fool. Too bad, so sad—not into you.

  They say they are practical, And I have no grasp over the world. Yes, indeed—because their practicality It is how easily they can buy a woman. "How does it matter what she earns? I’d rather prefer a teacher who comes home." But he would have roamed around Seeking the so-called comfort he could find. Yes, so practical you are— Laughing at women and their issues, Then wanting someone who obeys you. Funny, this "practical guy" Talks about equality While proudly proclaiming, "I’d rather be with a dumb girl." Someone who simply listens, Never raises a question. A practical guy Who makes practical investments By sleeping with women of profession, But suddenly becomes a scared little boy When faced with the truth. So he silences your voice— Not with reason, but a lightsaber stick. Yes, indeed, so practical.

  You came to me, asking for mercy, pleading for the sake of your unborn, for the tenderness of your wife, for a forgiveness you say you now deserve, because you were "just a child." But when I was fragile, when I was an open wound in this world, your words were stones and you threw them, your hands were knives and you wielded them. The child in me was buried under bruises you called "just a phase." And now, here you stand, eyes wide, wrapped in the innocence of fatherhood, a child again, you say, looking to me for shelter. But did you forget how you crossed my boundaries, how you fed off my spirit to quiet your own chaos? I see you, cloaked in fresh humility, but my own scars still bleed. How do I forgive what still lives in me, what broke and remade me a thousand times, to suit your whims and ease your fears? This mercy you seek, it isn’t mine to give anymore— not because I am bitter, but because mercy begins with those who knows the price of pain. And you still s...

  In search of "the one," you cast your nets wide, Yet countless hearts lie shattered, tossed aside. You wear the mask of charm, a gallant knight, But behind the smiles, you thrive in the night. You come as a coward, cloaked in deceit, Taking trust like a thief, leaving shadows of defeat. With whispers of love, you lead us to believe, But when it’s your turn, it’s us you deceive. You point your fingers, saying we’re to blame, For the scars and the wounds, for the heartache and shame. In your fragile world, you stand so tall, Yet it’s us who pay, as you let us fall. You risk our health with every careless touch, Your empty promises—do they mean that much? But we are not pawns in your twisted game, Our worth isn’t measured by the hearts that you claim. So here's the truth, let it echo and rise: We’re not your mistakes, nor your alibis. With every wound, we gather our strength, Transforming our pain into courage at length. Your shadow may linger, but we are the light, No lon...

  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 wome...

  How dare you say you liked me, When I was silent, lost in shadows, Blind to my own boundaries, Were you a good guy or just a tyrant? “Do you pray, or is it for show?” You questioned my spirit while you took, Encouraging assertiveness, yet— Crossing my lines without a second glance. When I mirrored your behaviour, Suddenly, I was the crazy one, Labelled a psycho, cast aside, But it’s you who controlled with a heavy hand. Commenting on how I dress and eat, Pretending that makes you a MAN, Did you choke on your own words, While belittling me with your laughter? Ohh, so you want to talk boundaries? A guy who said, “Give this shirt to me, It’s better suited for my brother and too big for you.” My shirt—if I want to give it, I’ll give, You’re no one to claim what is mine And act like you’re the good, generous guy. You want respect for your family and friends, Yet you ridiculed mine, Called my experiences fake and yours real. So listen, YOU MAN, If you come at me or the people I love e...

  You laughed at me, said I was "too pure," Because at 24, I hadn’t seen what the world obscures. Mocked my innocence, called it a shame, Yet, in the same breath, you played a godly game. You, who stumbled drunk, unable to stand, Proud of the bottle in your trembling hand. Flaunting your sin like a badge of pride, Now act as if you’ve got heaven on your side. You preach of salvation, of being saved, But when you spoke those words, were you brave? Did God protect you as you threw your stones, Judging me for boundaries that are my own? I welcomed you in, offered a home-cooked meal, A friend, not a foe—that was the deal. Yet, you call me a hypocrite, point fingers and sneer, When it’s your own reflection you should fear. You broke laws, bent morals to your will, Ask others to help while you stand still. Cheated, lied, made life easier for you, But now act like a saint, as if your sins withdrew. You called them names, laughed at their plight, But when your world crumbled, you beg...

You stand now, a beacon of progress, Preaching love, change, and light— But I remember the time you doused Every spark I dared ignite. You speak of growth, of shattered egos, As if you've been reborn, Yet once, you tried to crush my spirit, Dismissing me with scorn. Now you parade a new love, for all to see, As if settling for me was your only plea, Yet I was the one who dared to challenge, Your spirit low, my truth you’d banish. In excruciating pain, I cried alone, While you laughed, as if you’d won the throne, Blind to my struggle, your rose-coloured shades, Made me the villain in the games you played. I was "crazy" then, for questioning you, Challenging your narrow view, Now you act like you're enlightened, When I was always ahead of you. Your ego died, but not your pride, You wear it like a crown, Lecturing me on truths I knew, The very ones you tore down. You gaslit me, filled me with doubt, Called me names that cut too deep, Now you quote the poets and the sages...

I often chuckle now, When these boys call me crazy cow. You said to me then, I am not assertive. When I started speaking up,  They say I am doing them a disservice. I love it when they hit with a NO, is a NO. If we reverse the roles, it would be a creepy Joe. Did you forget the times, you manipulated me in the start? When I did not want those smokey lips on my heart? Or when I was busy with work? And you only wanted one thing to twerk. I did not want to touch you, Or wanted you in my space. But you were blinded by your itch. Then threw me away in the ditch. What about your melodra matic lie, That you can't stand to see me cry. Where was this concern and fake scheme, As I lay in my bed yelling with screams. Funny how they justify their abuse. Saying my poems are a bit obtuse. I am ok with being called crazy now. I am no longer an instrument that you can plough. ~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse