Your Guts , My Guts. #Poetry

Here’s the thing with guts.

your guts , my guts.

I hate your guts,

I want you deep inside my guts.

Guts. They make me who I am,

Indecisive.

But who isn’t?

when it comes to the boy you love, you hate him, don’t you?

Don’t tell me you love him, that’s not love.

Love is hating someone with a passion, a burning passion.

Mad at them for taking parts of you little by little,

but they spark a flame in you,

soon the red flame cools down, it’s blue.

and so you melt, you feel the smile aching,

but you can’t.

You built yourself from scratch, how can someone take all that away from you.

guts, they make me who I am.

I hate him,I love him, but I also fear him.

I can’t help but think of the agonising pain I’ll feel once he leaves me.

Don’t shame me for fearing commitment, it’s not illogical.

The amount of love I hold for him can kill once unleashed, once mistreated.

Can you imagine the damage that’ll be done once he leaves?

guts, they make me who I am.

What if I follow my guts?

I’m no longer secure

I’m no longer me

For if I was I in such predicament,

I wouldn’t let a boy infest my mind the way this one has.

So what if my guts are wrong? They make me who I am.

© VishalDutia