rain finally falls,
pitter-patter,
the heavens burst,
splitter-splatter,
it pours,
drip-drop
down,
noisily,
making itself known,
and thunder growls,
to tell me,
'I'm here!'.

It's raining outside;
I want to wash away the ash,
but I don't want to put out the fire.

Heartache.
It's more than an evening or weekend
Of ice cream and fine chocolate,
When listening to love songs,
Or watching rom coms on the couch
In jammies--

It's in all those nights of crying
While clutching at your pillow,
Begging for some semblance of solace.

It's in waking walking wandering wondering.
While looking down at your chest,
In every other even odd moment of consciousness
To check if the hole in your heart
Is finally visible from the outside.

It's that deep breath inhaled;
To counter the effects of the memories he gave,
That enables you to breathe again,
And the rapid blinking that keeps your eyes dry--
For just a little longer...

It's in re-building that wall.
Remember the wall? The one you tore down
To let him in?
Only, it's a shade darker than the last time.

Heartache is that deep, bottomless
Feeling of drowning
In misery and rejection
From the one person
You singled out from the crowd.
It's that overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia;
Which tells you,
'If you're not with him,
You'll go celibate!'

It's that ghost of a kiss,
That threatens to be the death of you;
It haunts your lips in your pale reality.
It's that hollow heart
That longs for his warmth, his arms
Those dreams of his beating heart next to yours;
Helping you regenerate
Only to be broken with sunrise, in emptiness.
When those unforgiving rays heat up everything,
But you're still freezing...

It's that poisoned apple you ate;
It runs in your veins.
Refusing to be digested,
Causing that overbearing chronic ache
That makes you want to scream out
In pure agony--
Making you wish,
*'If only he stayed!'

rushing in,
rushing out;
running after,
running from;

a soulless journey,
with no direction no passion.
(the end--bathed in darkness)

time travels on,
yesterday today tomorrow;
an endless trail to the left--past
an eternal path to the right--future

it's the same story
in a different narrative;
a book, an essay, a poem:
10 pages, 10 lines, 10 words...

life is an empty surface--not adorned with ink,
not filled with words;
without an image, color
or theme.
(the saddest story--that unmarked leaf)

no meaning no reason.
to nurture and to guide,
to lean on or learn from.

nothing
to feed this blazing hunger--

the blackness of your pupils
is empty.
you don't know
what to long for,
what to dream of,
who to miss...
(someone you haven't met yet)

there's a void in your world,
I can feel it choke you.

nothing
to look forward to.

in this dark abyss, you ache.
for that unforgettable
sated feeling--of completeness, fullness,
like being whole...
(something you've never felt before)

you wish for that eternal shine;
like a part of you,
your element your soul;
warming you,
thawing through the frost
of your broken dead dreams.

hope springs, souring high,
to break that empty shell,
to ease that great soul from inside of you
out in the open--to let it breathe--
finally!

an idea an adventure;
to nurture and guide,
to lean on and learn from.

praying for something anything!
it will feed this dying hunger.

---

there's a light in your eyes,
I can see it shine.

something someone
can break the darkness.
find it,
embrace it,
blaze in that glory;

so bright,
that when the light floods through,
the only one visible
is you.

*(heap of ashes, kindled, into fire...)

my phone beeped
in an almost deserted train compartment.
my boss,
'where have you reached?'
I sighed and replied,
'should reach in 5'
(would reach in 20)
same old dance
to the tune of corporate slavery.

a sharp sound,
I looked up.
the sound dissolved
into a fit of giggles.

a group of kids
playing around, teasing,
their mother close by;
a hawker, selling trinkets in the train.

it looked so natural.
a working mum
looking after her kids while on the job
(doesn't work that way does it?
guess they didn't have anywhere safe
without her)

I couldn't look away.

it was such a sight...
torn, tattered clothes
dirt and mud all over
and those innocent giggles;
it didn't add up.

I was tired, aching,
infatuating about sleep;
feet bleeding in killer heels,
rushing around without purpose,
forced into an exploitative overtime job
by myself; frustrated,
trying to keep up with society.

the little family
calm, collected;
torn, tattered smiles held with grace,
facing their exploitative poverty
with innocent mischief and honest labour.

confused,
I had a thought:
that's the life they've known,
this is the life I've known.
we fit in our lives...
differently?

no...
we fit in different lives in the same way.
I struggle she struggles,
we both have good bad days.

I didn't realize I was smiling
till she smiled back.

I bought something
and got off at the next stop,
wishing she has more good days than bad
and the kids keep their giggles
a little longer than they can..

Writhing on the ground,
Battling for every breath;
She cried for the end:
But in vain, it wasn't yet time for death.

She sat outside in the blackness,
Begging for some flame;
Scared of the dark, she screamed:
But in vain, no comfort ever came.

She felt her fingers tremble in the cold,
And pleaded for some heat;
She gasped, as frost froze her to ice:
But in vain, her heart just ceased to beat.

She came here alone,
And that's how she left;
She cried for someone to save her:
But in vain, she lost her innocence to theft.

She never knew of hatred,
Still, in ignorance, it's what she felt;
She never knew of forgiveness,
But with the relief of death, all her fury began to melt.

She felt her end approaching,
Before it came at the break of dawn;
She stretched towards the rising sun,
And without another sound, she was gone.

It's a confusing puzzle,
But still holds true:
You can't live with me;
I can't live without you.

Life is but a journey,
I chose to go through with you;
But now that you won't have me,
It's hard for me to continue.

Fate is a bitter cruel harpy,
With her sisters she conspires
For the death of my Love,
As your Love for me transpires!

Hope is a painful therapy,
It burns while nursing Time's stabs;
But the scars strengthen Experience,
As it assists to keep Reason's tabs.

Love and Reason are antithesis,
That can't co-exist;
But their affinity is such
That to be together they persist.

Perfection in Love is when
There is room for Reason;
But when Reason and Logic court,
Love calls it Treason!

Love is unfair and immature,
And still as pure as a dove;
But there's no use of Reason,
With the death of Love.

This poem is an analogy:
Which in life stands true;
It's no use of me loving you,
If there's no hope for you to love me too.

a life taken
a life broken
a life lost (say forgotten)
a life begins and ends, never lived

no recognition
no words of dear ones

bombings
silent screams
voices flattened in the mud - ash
(loud ones heard by none)

wars
marching or killing
sometimes both together
(mass graves no burials no rites)

revolutions
burning homes buildings towers
(men women children infants)

freedom is the prize.
****** is the price.

why did no one stop?
all life is sacred.
still, time marches on,
blood up to it's knees.

more destruction
more violence, their excuse?
peace honor religion opinions?

rallies of hate
against voices of love.
barbarians
in the age of civility...

an ache begins in the seeing heart
why did no one stop?

the pain of knowledge chokes on tears
why haven't they stopped yet?

This world feels
So foreign to me;
Though I was born in it,
It doesn't feel a part of me.

Give me a reason:
Good enough to stop and see,
What, through optimism,
This world could be.

Tell me of happiness,
And tell me of delight:
That could shine through this darkness,
Like a heavenly light.

Talk to me of love;
And of its virtuous beauty:
That can be felt through jealousy,
And not be borne like a duty.

Speak of the truth,
That guides me through falsehood;
That tells me how life is worth living,
And the living are worth some good.

Remind me of ignorance:
How blissful a mind in its presence can be;
And tell me how imagination,
Can overrule reality.

I ask this not for luxury,
But rather, out of necessity:
For my life has lost its meaning,
And with it, its integrity.

So, this world,
It feels so alien to me;
Though I was born in it,
It doesn't feel a part of me.

those sounds you make
with air and your voice box,
they're all made for me.
the words...that's what you call them.

when you pen down these words for me,
you're knitting my clothes:
black thread
embroidered on white.
always the same always so different.

that's how everyone gets to know me:
with your name, (always) the right fit
like a shoe that goes with every dress

I am the soul of all your creations
that part of your soul
that resides in white
I am all that energy that has bled from you
I am your soul - your soul is in me

I dwell in the blood that sweats through your pores.
I am the thrum of havoc in your veins.
I am the reason your heart beats.
it beats to my name.
you're mine.
you will never forget me.

I am your arrogance
I am the reason butterflies flutter
I am truth, I am redemption
I am lies and smiles
and that story you ache to write...

I am alive in the human touch
that keeps you hurting healing bleeding
tumbling in pain agony hate
through the impossibilities of your humanity.
I give you strength warmth courage tolerance
to go on,
to keep on living
and to keep me alive...

I draw life
from that
weird goofy and frankly whacked out part
of your mind
that thinks
I can talk to you

like

at
this
very
moment...