We have our timezones.
You have lit my nights
with oil lamps,
and scribbled words,
dripping ink,
bright blue circular, circumventing words.
I have glistened your days,
with sunshine,
and the smell of rain,
with sprinkles of cool
breeze showering on you.
My candles and rays,
are tip toeing out of sight,
I fall short of noticing them,
(partly because work kills me)
but more so,
because you have made
them seamless,
and thriving.
My pages,
do not boast of love,
or affection,
or any of that miserable
writing,
they screams passion,
they rip into anger
and courage,
belief,
belief you sewed into me,
with your gentle hands,
fidgeting and seeking.
And your eyes,
do not burn from the sunshine,
they glow,
and stare into the depths,
I see in you.
I know you hate the rain,
so mine doesn’t actually come down on you,
it lingers with its scent teasing you.
The cold breeze doesn’t
suffocate your breath,
it travels through
your body- within your veins,
it is breath.
We have our timezones,
but we meet at the horizon.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 8:50 AM UTC
I’m a ghost
as I wander around the house
you see me when you look in the mirror
I am the ghost of your past
the mirror knows me through and through
precisely why it doesn’t reflect you
It doesn’t know you
it has prejudices now
it knows the hand that had slithered down its body and slyly smiled
it knows the reflection that had carved itself
it knows designed perfection.
Now
you decay in a sea with similar fish
you were hit by a wave that you never saw coming
a storm that brought you down
on footsteps
leading to entropy
and you tumbled
down.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
her fingers tenderly feel
the alphabets on the mail
dusty from lying in the letter box
she was away these two months
and now is back to a home
cobwebbed in cold silence
crawls up her eyes
a terrifying tear
this day last year
he was here
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
White pages
stained and blemished
Once ******
now yellowed with age
Passionate words
blurred and faded
by tears
long since dried
Thin lines
holding memories
of kisses, soft touches
and pleading eyes
Paper treasures
Printed gems
Buried
by a sea of years
No one knows
why they are kept
locked away
in a cherished nook
Until they are held
by trembling hands
on lonely nights
when old hearts ache
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC
Sometimes, rarely often,
I lie awake, awake at night.
I wonder, wander, ponder,
The theme of you and I.
Though my soul blooms sick,
With ever lasting, lasting doubt,
I try to find, fend, comprehend,
Just how I'll go without.
You and I, such doomed hope,
This play of such, such cruelty.
Fate molded, melded, welded,
I to you and you to me.
Through scenes of flawed perfection,
We dance, dance and sigh.
Still flitting, flaunting, wanting,
Our freedom and the sky.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
Day before, I received a red chocolate box,
there at my doorstep.
It's like I was the bird waiting for a worm,
and it was there
feeding my neediness.
The box was almost the colour of his lips
and it smelled of him
All of this was
it was like a book
Only, the pages weren't inked with blue
I didn't open the box
till the time I felt
was an August gathering
I kept delaying it.
I never really wanted to open it
I'd br destroying a thousand reds of our love
if I did
Days-the box changed its odour
like my face's colour on a winter day
it grew pungent and grotesque
The scissors to cut our ribbon readied
I opened the box
and there
in a red box of chocolates
lay a dead red heart
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
Don't. Do not talk. Resist.
The anger you are afraid to show.
Afraid of being mistaken as weak, impatient.
Don't.
Don't bother to approach.
Don't bother to speak.
For you might hurt the one who cares to ask you of your state.
Let the silence speak for itself.
Let it scream through your fixed jaw.
Let it burst through the eyes that refuse to meet another's.
Let the one who hurt you,
See what they did.
Simply made you harder, tougher.
Depositing another layer of concealment.
Don't. Do not listen.
For when they ask you,
You don't relive the horror,
The horror lives you.
It melts the sadness
Which threatens to pour out of your eyes.
It ignites the anger
That fights with your tongue to scream
And blurs the vision with tears.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
A dark room with the faintest silhouettes
Scares me.
It scares me like a lone deer is, lost in the dark woods with no kind,
Only the hungry.
For you see,
In my case the hungry
They represent the tricks and beings in my head.
They can't be real, they aren't .
But as soon as the light flicks off,
My mind races against itself.
Competes to create as many iniquitous existences and nameless fears
Whose sole purpose is to haunt me with their piercing stare
Or grab my foot and drag me into another dimension from where there is no return.
But you see dear,
The same darkness brings to me comfort, when I close my curtains.
When I choose to sit in a room with no one and simply close my eyes and stare into my lids.
Not warmth, but solitude and oblivion.
It doesn't wash your sorrows and gift you acceptance,
As when you stare at the sun with your eyes closed.
But the sun cannot stay out all day long,
So it freezes the emotion, the wrath, the pain, whatever it is,
Locks it up in quarantine.
Momentarily.
I imagine myself floating in the dark void.
Treat it like an age old friend
Who called me for supper.
Just for small talk.
And our talks could go on for hours was it not for the real world.
Which cannot live one second with silence .
Banging on my door for some trifle reason.
And alas.
The monster from the cage escapes and I,
I am no more, for its reins are now taut around my neck.
My out appears ordinary. Stone-like.
But my ins,
the monster's ruling some part and feeding on the other.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
They fear the night
because the scary things slink out
And hide in the darkness
Waiting
Myself, the day is far more dangerous
Because they don't have to hide
When they look just like us
When they are us
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC