Magenta: like the dress
I wore on our very first date.
Hem, fluttering behind
The awe on your face, in your eyes,
Found something, I wouldn't now find.
Lavender: like the smell
You said intoxicated you.
Face buried deep in my neck
Eyes close, my hair tangled around,
At your fingers' call and beck.
Periwinkle: like the blue of your eyes
Shining like stars in dark.
Bright guides leading the way
Blinded, I followed till the end,
Now lost, even during the day.
Lilac: a single flower
"Because you're the only one"
Crowd isn't needed anymore.
My search ended on you,
Trying hard to be your one, two, three, four...
Amethyst: my birthstone I said
In between your laughter.
Waving it off as *"all the ********
We can't in stones, or lives, or signs find,
Something as simple as our hands' fit.
Violet: like the sky
At twilight that day.
Laying on our backs,
Reaching out with eyes, what cannot be with hands,
A lone cloud, drifting, with a silver crack.
Purple: like everything
I said and giggled.
My pendant, in all hues
The curtains, the pillows and the sheets,
Your shirt, my nails, the slight bruise.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
Waiting for that paper, a light
A cursor that keeps blinking for the next word
Even when the screen arranges to sleep in daylight
Fingers begin to itch and start being febrile.
An email, such a pity,
is more accessible than
a post box.
All the handwriting fonts that I did try, couldn’t,
Just possibly couldn’t mirror the impeccable tries
To struggle to be parallel to the top
Or bottom of a page.
The improbability of what the next thought would be
The prediction of where the addressee would smile
Or frown, or pick up eyes to stare at the wall for a while,
To embrace what had just been conveyed.
Letters are like light, they reach us later
From when they were born, but the spaces
they illuminate or burn on their arrival!
I wonder if our pupils shrink.
They more than just tag along, they tap in,
They’re the result of cleaning the ink from
the nib, a thousand times, over thousands
of sentences, or maybe just a few, but they do.
And don’t dare ask the pen for proof!
It’ll track down wrinkled pages
Who had their thirst quenched by
The swipes of fountain pens’ fountainheads,
And pictures of the fingers
Bathed in red, and black, and blue,
And occasionally of table clothes
Spilled over by the consequence of imperfect handles.
Imagine if light came as soon as it was made,
It would be difficult for our eyes to handle such bait
Sometimes, a pause is necessary,
Imagine a world without commas!
I’d like to peek into the writer’s letters,
Not to read, but to sense the shapes of emotions
And stretches of As and Ns, or the reach of commas
On the next line, and then, close my eyes
And shove my nose in it, to sniff hard
The paper and the blue smells,
And die doing so if it was eventual.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC
If you fall in love with a writer
Be prepared for heartbreak.
Those writers, they are hopeless romantic.
They love, not just with heart
But body, and soul; They love
With their words, and all things old.
And yet, they do not know often
How to use those words, unless through a pen.
Their silence will hurt you
Not once, but over and over again.
If you fall in love with a writer
There is no happily ever after.
They'll push and pull away from you
Those writers, they'll run and hide.
Then write about you, for you, only you
And arise; But it's a vicious cycle
And you cannot get by.
For some writers do not know happy,
For others, ever after is a myth.
They know their hearts, but not their minds,
I apologize but it is the bitter truth.
If you fall in love with a writer
Be ready to live forever.
You become their only words
And their words become only you.
Pages after pages of them inked
Maybe, a spoken few.
Whether you will it or not
You're their only truth, all else is a lie.
Because as the saying goes -
*"If a writer falls in love with you,
You can never die."*
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:01 AM UTC
*
"This is really important to me,
Please stand by me, please agree."
"We will talk every single day,
I am never really away."
"This is not going to change anything,
I promise, this isn't just a fling."
"I love you, you are the only one,
I will miss you, with every rising sun."
"This place ***** I wish you were here,
I'd rather be with you over there."
"I am sorry, I couldn't check my phone,
It's too difficult, and I am all alone."
"I am sorry, I really don't have any time,
Just a few days, then it'll be fine."
"I am sorry, it won't happen again,
I didn't want to cause you so much pain."
"I was out late, hanging out with other people,
It's not a big deal, not worth a squabble."
"This is really tough, should we re-think this?
We both are so busy, is it worth the risk?"
"I think we need a break, some space,
Maybe take things at our separate pace."
"I am sorry, again, I never wanted it to end this way,
I'll always love you, but we aren't meant to stay."
*
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
The answer is -
The universe,
Its origins unknown, and so the end
In its ever expanding conscious
With all its suns, and seas, and sand,
More than that.
My fear,
Dark and deep, unending abyss
Layers upon layers of broken trusts
Loves gone amiss,
More than that.
Your anger,
Red, then scarlet, then crimson
Blood pooling around my open wound
A battle against fission,
More than that.
But,
Apparently not enough.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
And after it all ends
Turning into sawdust
Have courage, dear heart
Cause even though
You expected the worst
Broken things do hurt.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC