I hope you slept well to the  new pillows that have not been imprinted by any essence yet
I hope you woke up startled and longing in a place defiant to show any familiarity
I hope you feel free now that you have burnt down your past to the ashes.
I hope you feel heavy now that the ghosts haunt you for your unbidden goodbyes
I hope the sun shines ever so gently, I will your sunflowers to never wilt
I hope the scorching summer heat reminds you of the spring that faded too soon
I hope the windchimes lull you into a dreamless sleep.
i hope i find my way to you and walk through your resistance even if it is in your dreams


I hope time grants you blissful forgetfulness
I hope you spend your nights trying to remember the feel of my lips against yours but can't
I hope no rain ever takes away your vision of a clear blue sky
I hope no rain is enough for you to drown the softest I love yous you confessed
I hope you now get to write the story you wanted to read, in peace
I hope you can't find a metaphor loving enough that I have not used upon you
I hope we find that we are the sun we were looking to orbit around
*I hope you wistfully say that I was your favorite sky to shine upon

I remember when I was young
I wrote in my diary- Never to love
All in BLOCKS.
But
You were warm, And I was not
My mistake, I forgot.
You came in with a face
Of all I knew AND all I should not want.


I remember stolen breaths,
See through excuses,
The adrenaline.
I should have known better..
But
You were persistent, and so was i
Some nights, I consoled my heart
Some nights the beats would be lullabies
I dared to sleep upon.
(Some nights I consoled my heart
Some nights it was my heart's turn
To become lullabies, I'd lay my head upon)

I remember how it all changed
Small steps, uneasy, nothing to object
Till you were close enough
For so long..
I did not know where i was
When you would go..
If you should go.
But
Your reassurances that I'll never have to wonder.
Then why?
Do i go through my shelves
Wondering which book and whose story
Are you bringing colors into now?

I remember finding sunrise in your smile
Brightening to grey my blackest hours
That smirk upon your face,
those impish eyes
How could I have not fallen for?
But
I knew all along my story's end,
A light that bright burns way too soon
(I rather hoped it would not. Another mistake,
I just forget.)
I Hope, because you told me I must.

I remember when I was young,
I promised myself to never love
And how i forgot!
(You made me forget.)
But
Now I have a bag packed with essentials
Hidden under the bed, my visa renewed
And a courage overfed
You might guess, but you'd never know why.

My morning prayers become a chant
Reciting all the ways it would not last.

Eyes like a forlorn yet lit pathway on a wintery night,
Leading to an unfamiliar place that unerringly felt like home
Alas, too bad i always kept dying at the doorway,
Every time I looked at my own reflection;
I felt like a stranger to my own self.


A laughter so soft yet carrying the echoes of a hundred distant temple bells,
Holding the murmurs of dying Gods and their fallen grace
Too bad that all of those listening
Lead to a map drawn so wrong
The tune of divine was lost on my mortal ears.

A face like sunlight filtering through the trees,
Playing hide and seek; a perfect escapist,
Her skin is a habitat of all the lost fireflies,
Her hair, a perfect tease daring the wind to stay still
Too bad the wind could not stay, so with itself it carried her away
Never have I wandered before, hoping to get lost so she could find me again.

Who ever said I could not write happy poems while my blood dripped all over these pages

Who ever said I could not smile so much that it hurts in the morning, only to cry myself to liberation at night?
Who ever said I could not bring a party to life, just because my insides feel dead?
Who ever said I could not preach self love while loathing myself?

Who ever said I could not care for humanity, even if I don't really love humans all that much individually?
Who ever said I'd shy away from an argument, just because I advocate peace?
Who ever said I can't be complex in my thoughts, while being so simple in my art?
Who ever said I could not be an insomniac, even if I can sleep all day long just fine?

Who ever said I could not be terribly sad while laughing myself to a fit?
Who ever said I could not wear a seat belt just because some nights my thoughts strayed to suicide?
Who ever said I wanted to die just because I could not expect to live?

Who ever said who you're should be neatly labelled into categories others decide?

I start a poem
I say it's not going to be about you
They say if you lie long enough
It will become your truth
So I'm still waiting for a day
You won't sneak into my poem
As if we were playing hide and seek
Except it's been ages and I gave up
And one day, you suddenly decide to surprise me

"were you just starting to forget me"

I start a poem.
I see you ******* around.
You get to **** around now.
Especially with my mind.
And that's okay.
I try too, to ******* back, but my words don't **** around.
Well, whatever.
Here's another poem you won't get to read

"pls, do you ever miss me too"

I start a poem,
It's 4 am
I think I don't have a choice
In how I get my heart broken anymore
So I write about you
Cause you were the first tragedy I chose
And the only one I am willing to talk about.
It's hard to be ****** at a God you don't believe in
So I stack my "tragedies" together and
Give it your name.
I almost feel bad for doing it to you
But you're warm, and in love
And all I have is these bitter words.

"guess who the joke is on"

I start a poem.
And midway I stop
Not knowing what to do with it
Like the fact that
The only thing separating you and me
Is this 6 feet of earth between us.
I have been making a graveyard inside of me,
In hopes that you would come, visit

"if for some reasons we don't work out, we will  keep each other in memories and move on. There's much more to life. Promise me"

I start a poem
Because what does a broken promise mean
To someone who is long gone
And buried.

I had long realised that I like to make poems out of people I care about. I have loved words. I have loved how insignificant they're alone, how contradictory. How the same words can be framed and hung upon  someone's darkest sky like a thousand glittering stars or be burnt into the corners of our minds getting us to wonder if heaven and hell both exist inside us.

How words are the cage and how they can be the wings.

How they label you sometimes and sometimes let you free.

And how sometimes with all their infiniteness they are not enough.

I had long realised that loving rarely ever equalled to understanding. And I found it to be one of the saddest things. Like how we all have so much love to give, and we all keep giving it away the way we would want to receive it. But it does not work that way, does it? You can't explain to a tone dead person  how talking to them felt like finally being introduced to a melody they had heard so long ago it felt world's away, in another birth except the melody decided to stick with them.

And since then I have been trying to understand more, but sometimes I can't tell if I'm getting better at it or I just stop caring. Or if it's possible to try to walk in someone's shoe and still find a fault with him?

I had long realised that my poems one way or another turn out to be a goodbye to people I love. It's like my hands know they're going to have to wave good bye so they do the only thing they can. They write, as if to convey that they, my heart, will remember them long after they have been let go. I almost did not want to write this for you.

But.

You are the one who points at my wings when I make cage out of my words and get trapped in my mind.

You are the one I call at 2 am when I'm too tired to rebel against yet another label I earned for myself.

It's the mixed sound of our laughter echoing in my ribcage that makes me create my own spheres of infiniteness in few ephemeral minutes.

You understand that you don't always understand, and you accept.

I did not want to write this for you because all my poems turn into a eulogy no one stays long enough to hear.

But.

I think you'd listen.