Why do I keep loving like this? #Poetry.

 A raw poem on unrequited love, heartbreak, and loving too deeply.

But seriously, I try.
I really mean it when I say, I try.
Because I try and try
till my mind remembers each silent plea.

As if you’re a golden fish,
and I am all around you,
yet a pool of the Dead Sea.

A picture I can see — humans lying above,
each one a version of me,
silently mourning love.

Love that didn’t stay.
Love that couldn’t hold.
Love still surviving, choking — 
love not meant for me.

So, I give.
I give till I die.
I pour my blood, 
sobbing, laughing, begging,
as if with it
all the lost love,
the lost goodbyes
I can buy.

A bargain I always failed at,
yet relentlessly, I still try.

So, each time I go to the market,
I see tangled emotions, confused townspeople
Kindness on sleeves, yet secretly holding needles.

As I roam around, I see people cleverly snapping up a deal,
a few even being unkind, trying to steal,
whispers of deceit, ear-deafening voices and noises,
Yet I hear a silent outcry —

as if love is merely a spear,
not always of use, yet important to keep.
I see people trying to cut me,
cut me again, cut me deep —

Yet I cut my veins, pouring blood,
a body carrying love,
as if love is always on standby.

~ Sandhya Arya.

Buy my book: Perhaps, it was love (https://sandhyaarya.gumroad.com/l/lbxqp), If you get a chance to read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to email me. I would also love to write a custom poem for you, inspired by the parts of my book that stayed with you.

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© 2026 Sandhya Arya. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this poem may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.