I love him, but he'll never know.

I could begin climbing a tree
To attach a swing for you
And me
I'd build it to only seat two
But I am stuck inside
A brown paper bag
Chopped up
Into pieces I can't describe.
I reach out to catch him
But miss by an inch,
A mile,
A day,
A year,
So
I wait right here.

Here, a bouquet of broken
Skyscrapers,
A pile of glass shards,
A chaotic
Entropic
Mess of a thing.
What a pity
you wasted your time
on me.
Tied with a black ribbon
Of wet tar and black candle wax,
I hand it over
You said,
"I wanted your heart."

"This is my heart."

I don't know why I'm scared.
to die is the ultimate gift.
a welcome relief from
this world we call home,
when all it has really been
is a place I have never actually known.

Many brave warriors
            dared to scale it
         some succeeded.
   Mountain men were
challenged to climb it
                    a few fell
         some persevered.
the townspeople gazed
    at it from the village
                           in awe
               
                
                But only you                 jumped.

Our feelings found an end before the beginning ..

Im trying to decide
what it is that
I see in you
what it is that
makes me love you
Because really
you just make me tired
all of the time
I'm stressed
depressed
and overall in pain
just being with you
yet I can't help but stay
because theres something
I love about you
Its not so much your eyes
or your voice
though both of those
are wonderful
its not quite your smile
or your laugh
yet both of those
are sweet
I think its something deeper
calling me to you
and it causes me to stay
even though its rough
I believe its love itself.

Stuck
in a ***** two-room apartment
almost out of cigarettes ,
at one in the middle
of a sweaty Chennai night,
sobering up after two days,
famished
and restless
dreaming of mid-night
cigarette shops that never were,
dreaming of alcohol
(just enough to pass out),
checking and rechecking
the spent bottles
and giving up in the end
and settling to tolerate a night
with myself,
walking and babbling
and writing and thinking
and floating up on a great idea
and circling back to the floor
looking for cigarettes,
just waiting for the shutters to lift,
just waiting for this to end,
just waiting.

It was the best metaphor for life
that I've ever known.