It is just when you have been sad for too long, you, at some point, make a home out of it. It is not intentional. It is that sometimes familiarity is as close as you get to calling something home. Like imagine it has been raining for months and You have learnt to sleep to the clatter of rains and to wake up to your window glasses being stained and one day you wake up and there is an icy sun In its full glory up in the sky. And you suddenly don't know how to react. But that is what you wanted once, right?  And now the brightness is just too cheery. Too much for you. And darkened clouds that followed you ever where and it seemed to you then that they were doing it out of pure spite,  were gone and You realise at that moment how much you miss them and how you wanted them to stay. And you try to write about it 'cause that is how you operate. Don't know what to make out of the mess? Just put it out on the page but lately you have realised that no matter what,  your pen won't move and when they do the words that come out are so blunt, so meaningless and devoid of emotions, you wonder if that is how your brain feels. Cause your writings were always a reflection of what you felt and could it be that without all those sadness to fill the empty spaces you're just hollow. Who said that numbness was a relief? for this numbness is driving you crazy and ******* you just need to feel.
When was the last time someone attempted to talk to you or vice versa? How did you start to feel so distant and how all of them have lost their distinct faces and blend into one another till you can't sense a difference. A various combination of expressions that showed concern but never understood. And it is funny how you were dying and they asked you which color of dress would look good on them and you said red. You hate red. And that is how it became too much. You grew exhausted. That is what small talks do to you. So you stopped. Then you stopped seeing point in any kind of talk. Cause they exhausted you. Pointless talk about things you don't care about. You stopped talking. Then you stopped caring. You still loved them but it did not matter. Very few thing did. That is when sadness found its root and spread its wings. You are not going to glorify it. It was bad. The crying into pillows for no reason , sitting still for minutes not doing anything, not thinking anything and then at the end of the night regretting it all over cause it was self inflected. Or so you felt. But then it got better. Less bothersome. It was always there draining your energy but at least you were not crying. You should have known then. It was a sign. That how it,  like a parasite, was draining your energy and once it was done it would leave you paralysed. And it did. And now you feel so lost and dumb. Is not it sad when you want to be sad just to feel something? You realise this. It almost makes you feel something. Almost.

See the sky turn crimson red,
The same hue
With which your soil is covered.

Tell me, how are you going to explain this to mother
That the boy she cradled in her arms as a child,
Has now gone cold.

No more sneaking on his side
To get a scoop of his favorite ice-cream at midnight
And the plans she had for his 8th birthday party
Will never see the light of reality.

See the colors seep Out of her world,
The same way blood drained out of the boy's body.
Tell me what could you possible say to justify
The killing of innocence
To justify the replacement of laughter and joys
With ****** and blood
The heart that soared over with pride,
Is now weighing down with guilt
If only she had listened to his excuse, he made to stay out of school
She would not be holding him for the last time,
Fighting the tears that are too numb to come.

See the sky clear up again,
From the tears of the innocents,
You'll hope, plead and pray then forget
Till it gets ****** yet again.

But the mothers' heart will remember,
And one day they'll pay,
The heaven they had foreseen
Will be worse than any hell

Stay, hold me
The way trees hold on to the leaves,
Shivering on a stormy night.

The way wind soaks away
The woes of the flowers
Right off their petals.

Stay, let me listen to your breathing
If you can’t seem to find a word,
That is just fine by me.

As your beating heart tells me,
All there is for my heart to know;
A grand gesture of just being there

Stay, just this one night,
In between your breaths,
Is where my safe haven lies

The almost rhythmic
rise and fall of your chest
Lures me into security

Stay, for
I’m longing with nothing there to long for,
Looking, for a place I have never been to.

Because
I have a restlessness in me,
That just can’t be contained.

But there is something in you,
That always
got me to stay.

So this time darling,
Won’t you stay
For me

Cause there is a warmth
Inside of me
That comes only from being loved by you

It is all about the thing that is the last whisper you hear  before you sleep.
It is all about the lingering feeling of a soft kiss on your lips before you snuggle the night away in his arm.
It is all about the random tide that hits you making you realise how much you're loved,
Like a silent sky people forget about sometimes but is always there when you look up.
It is all about the numbing chilly breeze on a wintery midnight, that makes you feel so much,
The roads and surroundings covered in orangish pink hues,  slowly humming to themselves, luring you in a trance.
It is all about the soft wintery moon smiling down at you,
Or the science exams that bring out your artistic streaks
It is about those moment of tranquillity where every piece falls into the places they belong.
It is all about the stains you get after laying in the grass early morning
Each dew drop looks like a twinkling sun of their own.
It is about getting to taste heaven in your favorite flavor,
And enjoy the sun  kiss your skin.
It is all about nani maa oiling your hair and your mother's eyes twinkling,  while she says you're such a spoiled  kid.
It  is about the hope that someone else  will get the door.
It is all about fluffy socks,  sweater with hand drawn patterns
It is all about flushed cheeks, freezing hands in your friend's pocket
Like the snow flakes that fall,
Unique in their own way,
Every season with itself brings
Its own flavor and shades,
And though summer is well known for  lighting a wildfire  in everyone's heart,
And adrenaline rush of first love,
Winter stands elegantly,  and let things run into a deeper course.

I decided to hold your hand,
Just when you decided to let go,
I realised why I needed you to stay,
When you already had one foot out of the door
.
And all my words feel a little more emptier,
Without your gaze lingering on them,
You knew my emotions so well,
Won't you come back for a minute and have them explained
.
I always could feel sadness more deeply,
Than I ever felt love,
What's the point of holding on to pride, and letting someone go,
When you are going to spend years looking at the Door
.
I was halfway in
When you were halfway gone
You always wanted a poem written about you like the ones I wrote for him,
Just when I picked up the pen, you turned away and walked.
.
Oh how useless are words,
When said,
A little too late.

Outside my windows,
the leaves fall, unashamedly,
gracefully,
like they're sure,
someone will catch them,
undoubtedly.

In the distance, I hear
A familiar tune, playing,
With words too blurred,
To make any sense of the song,
Nostalgia of the home I left behind
Comes creeping,
Slowly and then all at once.

On my table, sit papers,
All empty,
Pen held tight in my hands,
Benign,
Feelings at the tip of my fingers,
I can't find words for.

Bathed in silver
from the moonlight
that seeps through my window curtains,
I find my mind
drifting off to you,
again.

The view of starry sky,
numbs down my brain processes,
or, maybe it is the effect of my heavy eyelids
battling drowsiness

and it is funny how I still have no illusions,
that the sight of the same nightsky,
ever leads your thoughts processes to me.

And for me, all the trains of thoughts,
have a single destination
you know for me,
it is always you.

I don't know why
the moon is looking quite sad today,
maybe it has finally realised
that the place it has always known as its home
is not only his.


is anything truly ever ours?

even our lives are not just ours,
maybe that is the way of the things,
what we love today,
has been loved before,
and will be loved again.

and I still can't stop thinking
about the kiss I left on your eyelids.

and look the stars are winking and shining brighter in moon's misery
and I know I have lost coherence
when I imagine how they would look hanging in your braids

And here I can feel the quiet ache hum again,
I don't know how or when but I succumb to sleep,

and I swear I felt the moonlight kiss me,
and I swear I felt you smiling at me.