I check those messages once again,
they are still stale, still unchecked,
Piled up, like the Marlboro blacks in my ceramic ashtray,
You might have finished a pack or two, I am sure.
Have you even eaten? Are you okay?
Ah the question I no longer have the right to ask.
For my needle mouth wounded your debilitated heart,
Yesterday night, rapid winds of turbulence passed by shore,
Was it for you too?
I sensed your cries, behind those, "Leave me alone, I am fine,"
your black clouds paid a visit to my sky,
Poured briefly and surrounded my eyes,
Your heartaches were felt by the worn out bud,
we nurtured it, promised it'd grow,
But my riotous words signalled the thunder,
Oh! I knew the wrath of this violent strike.
I hardly slept a wink, did you too?
For your thoughts gathered around this grey lurched being,
It will be okay, please dont overthink you said,
Yet I kept falling, falling down the stairway,
I promised myself I would gently take a step,
but if only this childish heart could understand the depth,
Of the beautiful things that lied ahead.
But the fool, my mind,
My heart, the slave,
walked to its beat
and wept when it left.
As I sit below the stairway,
I see nothing at all,
"Melancholy is it?" I ask,
Your deep silence echoed,
//it is the beginning of dread.//
I wondered why our shadows were always dark,
When they could instead be, yellow, orange, blue or grey,
but everyone around us would then know that,
we’re happy today, or maybe just feeling plain,
Maybe you wish to be left alone and your shadow would then predict it away,
It would then be impossible to hide our fear, our thoughts, our feelings away.
Oh the color has many possible answers,
most of those, truly unknown.
At times it sinks in your loneliness on the cold winter nights,
It’s the only thing accompanying you,
under the dim streelight.
Where you tread around cautiously,
rapidly try to save yourself from hungry eyes and calloused face.
It acccompaines you by the marble floor of the serene terrace,
As you sit beneath the callous moon,
listen to the chatter of the tranquil trees, feel the wind hover around,
there is a thin silence in that loud air,
you sit back and watch the dead stars grow cold,
it cautiously grows upon you, in time, the twilight doesn’t scare you in any way.
it stands out in play as you await the arrival of the one who couldnt keep their promises,
it starts with the last local bidding goodbye,
those lean feet seek support of the rusty grills and patched wall,
he will be here, your rawboned hand graciously pray,
but all you hear are crickets gossiping away,
and the scarred bat screech in pain,
Suddenly those empty windows infront of you,
showcase a shadow too gloomy for the day,
you step away in dismay,
in hope, that it was a nightmare.
Alas the darkness has other plans to play.
And little by little,
you get used to this feeling, everyday.
I came across a fuzzy seed of myself.
This part that i nurutred everyday in the past,
That saved me on the silent days,
On the days my beliefs were bandaged like my tongue,
Has made a home in the silent hall of my heart,
This fuzzy wall is cracking down suppprting this seed all the time,
I see the failure of naive lost self, nailed,
rusty tacks that marred the heart,
lie beside my cold feet, plain,
I try to fill the crevices of this wall with the fleeting moments of happiness,
alas,its momentous strength fails to keep them align.
I watch them fall ounce by ounce as the roots of this seeed outgrow alongside the echoing room,
its silence is felt, but the voice keeps growing louder by each passing day.
The elongated roots seem too weak,
support each other and have become quite strong,
the brakish water nurtures them,
gives them hope they can still come out alive.
purple skies often shed their light and there they lay by the blackened sky nurtured and safe.
I try to burn them away with a flicker of hope that shined in life,
I stand paralysed as I watch this flame shudder under the coldness of this sight,
but the pecuilar roots defy this time, smell putrsecine,
as though it was never meant to be die.
Why do we scream in silence
But stay mum during turbulent days,
Smile during thunders,
But cry alongside those rains,
Why do we lock everything up in our concrete jail,
But wish to be free from our own chains,
Why do we run away,
From our shadow and that blurry face
From those violent winds and those unsettled waves,
But in our gloomy world, we often stay?
I wish I could stop using this sentence at times, but ever since I was a child, maa always told me everything is fine, it’s all in your head,my little dandelion.
She told me that as a woman I must learn to accept some hardships in life,that crying over things isn’t the solution to life.
“Then when does one cry, maa?”
“People cry when someone dies, shibu” Not when they’re alive and happy”
I wonder if I am truly alive?
My heart doesn’t really beat,
it functions like my neighbor ‘s old Ben clock,
Only at night does it realise that its alive
It echoes a silent tap, those muffled voices in the background snicker and laugh,
I hear a whimper, too soft for anyone to notice around,
But it ticks too loud, but oh the silence of the night takes the credit away.
Go for a run or a walk, Dad orders me,
I find myself wearing those worn out converse of mine,
Where my laces have knots and are too loosely tied,
I jog for a few minutes until those thoughts feel too much for me, the same disappointment,
The same numbness, the people in my life I could never please, I run, run the way I have always liked,
The one where people disappear and my heart beat comes alive,
After 3 rounds of running, I return back home,
“You look like hellboy” dad acknowledges my presence as he opens his new bottle of whiskey, tonight.
After two 60 ml shots,
He tells me that I act like an emotional fool at times,
that I must learn to be tough, be like a rock he says, it never cries.
I wish I could tell him that oh it breaks, shatters into pieces when it can’t cry.
I wish I were a child right now,
atleast writing “I am fine” hundred times would let my unconscious mind accept this plight,
Alas my heart would never accept that sight.
Why dont you share anything with me, I am right here, my friend texts me,
But what do I tell her when I myself dont understand it,
That there are times I just wish to be left alone,
All I want is the silence around me, not questions and remarks about how I am not doing well in life.
Rather all I end up texting them is, Oh it’s nothing, I’ll be just fine. :))
She is unsure and uncertain in life, she wants a few things, yet doesnt want them too. She would initiate the conversation then feel it losing it’s sight and in time with her lack of effort, it’ll die.
For she knows they’d have many others whom they would talk to, she’d assume small things and get nervous all the time, “why did you type the Okay ♥️ as ok, / okay / k/ this time?”The others she wonders about the tone of their text and replies, “were they in a hurry or did they wish to talk to me after a while?”
“Why didn’t they use their regular emoji, or are they done with her hopeless plight?”
She deletes messages quite often too,for her anxiety tells her it sounds too rude or maybe not right, what if they feel bad? What if they read in between the lines? They cant see her vulnerable side.
Sudden calls from strangers scare her to death,do they expect a specific reply? Is hmm and haan and okay and yeah, fine? What if they feel she is not contributing to the conversation at all,her heart comes to her mouth, she feels like 1 year old, she babbles or mumbles or at times is inaudiblely loud.
At times,she is sure of her mind, sure of the things she has to say and feels about the people around, yes doubts and fear cross her mind, but her heart comes to resuce those times.
The others, her heart plays tricks on her mind, for it doesn’t understand the difference between infatuation or lust, confuses it with love and keeps her awake all night.
Yes she overthinks, she has scales of measurement for this overthinking too, a bit done every now and then seems fine, she takes overthinking breaks in between her day, thinks about the topic from all the sides and even tho the stimulus is out of her sight it still revolves in her mind.
“Is it yes or was it no?”
She dislikes the term in between and people giving her ambiguous hues. She likes weird and confusing things for sure,
The puzzle the daily crossword, the sudoku hurl, the Rubik’s cube, confusing it may be for others but she’d try all the combinations and solve it overnight, and if not, then mess up the code and add more sequences to her plight.
At times she is nervous and shy,like the naive Caterpillar that transforms into a beautiful butterfly, she is oh so cautious and alert of her moves, never to harm a soul and usually complies.
The others she is bold and scary they say, like the moth, that’s as dark as the ruinous sky, you’d shoo her off, so that she doesn’t ruin your cashmere shawl overnight,
She’s reckless and wild, is attracted to dangerous people who often hurt her or leave her in the absence of light, is attracted to the feral fire that could burn her core, yet she wishes to go near it, to warm her numb soul.
Life for her is a puzzle,
one cannot fathom right away
It is never truly black nor white,
At times it’s blue and purple, red and grey,
So arrange every piece that comes your way,
And that’s how she lives her life, everyday.
Does your heart ever beat aloud, when my name pops on your screen?
Does your face heat up, or do your lips start to smile?
Do you ever look up at the sky and gaze at the moon sometimes?
Remember our previous conversations and way you hugged me, tight?
Do my thoughts ever cross your mind,
Whenever you’re busy at work, trying to study, or sleep at night?
Do you even remember the words you said before you first kissed me,
Or way you smiled so bright?
I wouldn’t know, anymore.
I do know you’re searching for a girl who’d fit into your world.
Who is different than the others, you’ve met,
Someone who adds value to your life, understands you.
Doesnt expect you to be perfect,
Rather, accepts your various hues.
Doesn’t give up on you, when you push her aside,
Who keeps texting you, even though you hardly reply,
Who is always loyal to you, honest and never lies.
You’re a man of few words,
You pretend to listen and hardly reply,
But expect others to listen to you,
but do you comply?
You welcome people, but never let them in,
You know their secrets, hardly share your worries, at times lie.
When confronted, you dive in your cave, you sigh.
You overthink, overanalyze, but keep mum, in your agony, you die.
But tell others that overthinking isn’t right
You have peculiar moods, one in which you wish to be left alone,
One in which you’re no longer the gloomy soul, you’re cheerful,
full of life,
Alas it doesn’t last that while,
And finally the one,in which, your mood, monosyllables provide.
But there’s this void, this tiny black hole,
That exists within you, in your heart,
That is masked by your smile,
One that I can see in your eyes.
What if it forever resides?