You Won't See Me Cry (poem) By Shayan Das

I know she's my type of girl every time she tells me, "Don't love me for the beauty I have but for the beauty I create".

Shayan Das

Your self-esteem is a double-edged sword. It all depends on the 'self' of self-esteem whether it'll pull you up from the nadir or push you down from the pinnacle.

Shayan Das

Saying she had to be loved was an understatement; she deserved to be worshipped.

Shayan Das

Trust me, it's not what you've lost that matters, but what you're losing while lamenting over it.

Shayan Das

And how easily we claim our love to be unconditional while knowing at the same instant that the greatest basis for loving someone more than our lives is to make ourselves exist.

Shayan Das

Neither she nor I could ever figure out whether poetry was an excuse to think more of her or she was an excuse to think more of poetry.

Shayan Das

hi!! i'm assuming here but are you bengali? because I am and i was just curious

i also really like some of your writings! they're really impactful. i saw in one of your posts how much the entire romantic movement affected you and I wanted to say that really shines through your poems and pieces! the entire writing since you were eleven is really relatable because so was i! hope you always keep writing!

Thank you so much for the compliments! Yes, I'm a Bengali, an ardent lover of Tagore and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay besides English Romanticism.

My Bengali poems are posted here.

I was a dream until one day I had my own dreams. My peers thought I'd outshine them; my parents expected my light would embellish them until one day it blemished me. 'Cause to shine is to build expectations and to build expectations is to be vulnerable. You ascend, albeit you know that the higher one goes, the more bones he breaks each time he falls. You trade your ambitions to build someone else's, snivel in silence and make endless excuses to defend each catastrophe until one day you find yourself becoming them, exhausted and devastated, on the verge of hitting mediocrity, and questioning why you couldn't be that anticipated one. All you wonder is if only you could stop that 7-year-old boy from striving those extra hours to top his class, rip apart the diary when he wrote his first story at 11, fasten those lips that whispered in praise of him, burn the books that told a 15-year-old boy that he can be almost anything in this world only if he aspires to. You pray only if you could dissolve into oblivion until one day you get to make a noise and yet remain unexplored.

Shayan Das

If Only (Poem) by Shayan Das

[Artworks/Images: In Bed: The Kiss, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1892) | Renoir (2012) | Romantic Lovers, Willem Haenraets]

Accidentally stumbled upon your blog, but now I find myself eagerly exploring each post, savoring the beauty of your prose. The way you articulate ideas and infuse emotions into your writing is truly remarkable.

Thank you so much for the compliment. It means a lot. Wish you a great day/night ahead <3