Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win
Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win

Two Little Presents

Two Little Presents

2 mins

I wait everyday

Till it gets dark,

And you close your eyes.

I wait for us to meet and greet,

When you and I finally

Get to have a rendezvous,

In a new poem,

Woven with different words.

You wake up on Christmas

To find a present,

That is beautifully wrapped.

You tear it open,

Gently but impatiently,

And all you can see is

A pillow and a blanket.

Now this brings a billion thoughts

Rushing into your head,

At the speed of

A million thoughts per second.


What do you have to do

With physics?

You are so not impressed

With a present like that,

Because it costs nothing

For a commerce student.

Only if Santa could tell you,

How much you matter.

Only if you could really see

The one behind the mask,

The real me,

With phrases raining down my eyes,

And words filled in my mouth.

I catch my breath,

While I calculate

All of it.

Just to find you,

Uninterested and bored,


Why have a real Santa

When you've got someone better

Who looks like an angel?

How do I tell you

How much I love you?

Only if this poet's words could be said,

Rather than written.

Angel's with the prettiest faces

Have shadows too.

Not generalizing,

But, isn't she too good to be real?

You would understand,

Only if you knew

She has the darkest heart.

Now i'll take a few more words,

Rather than moments to tell you:

What Santa's presents,

Which were given to you,

Really do.

The pillow:

It will soak up all your tears,

While you barely catch your breath.

And I, while staring at you

When you are asleep,

Will rush to exchange our pillows,

Before you wake up.

It will be your best friend,

When no one else is.

And will be there

When you wanna cuddle with someone,

Or hug and weep.

It will be your wall,

When you wanna scream

At the one who hurt you.

It will be your partner,

When you wanna dance

To your favorite music,

Without even judging your choice.

It will build up a nice and new story

For you every night,

With the words of this poem.

The blanket:

It will cover you up,


Even better than

Your possible best friend,

Who will betray you, no matter what.

It will hug you,

Before going to bed,

While sleeping

As well as after waking up.

It will roll up,

To shape into a cylinder

Almost like a human,

So that you could hug it.

And it's totally okay,

If you squish or squeeze it

Because it's not a human after all.

It will remain with you forever,

For real,

At the end of the day, everyday.

Only if you don't plan

On burning it down.

It will never hurt you,

For you shall never hear a word from it,

Even though it is woven

With words that don't rhyme,

Unlike humans,

Who don't care about your time.

Santa hopes for these two little presents

To find a perfect place

In your little heart,

That has been broken

Into a billion pieces,

Before you received them.

And they promise,

To be your friends from now on.

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