You're not lost, just because you didn't comb today
I see you here, yet your thoughts are drifting away ...
You rake the leaves, with your bare hands,
You try to see, where your future stands.

You're not lost,  just because you need a break,
I see you smile, while trying to hide your heartache
You collect the dirt, under your fingernails,
As you walk barefoot and cover your trails.

I still see you, underneath the falling leaves,
I hear your voice say "thank you"  and "please"
I see your true smile, glowing in your eyes,
You're the only reason, my soul survives.

It is tiresome
a wasted effort
reaching out to
the wrecked refuse
of humans who abuse
people who have
already been
terribly misused,
tortured, or suffering losses
that would break you
straight through,
then in two.

Standing tip-toed on this ridge which overseas everything,
All around me, I see everything that I was and will be..
The #nomnom of my hungry stomach has subsided,
The throb throb of my heart doesn't deafen me anymore..

Don't those involuntary sounds, make you smile..
and take yourself a bit less seriously than what you overthink?
Don't let go, But don't cling too much either...
This is Equilibrium, a construct impossible yet purely plausible.

Your journey so far only adds up if you remember their smiles,
Your journey ahead only makes sense, if you can imagine your own
Which smiles you ponder? Those whom you surprised with love,
Those who appeared out of nowhere to guide and hold your hand..

While we dive into the minutest details of the magic of creation,
or expand and hover above seeing our unanimous victories..
There is that nub, we bump up against, that sweet middle spot,
The point of Equilibrium, between construction  and consumption

She is standing on the brink of sanity
looking for something to hold on
She is twenty-six years old, watching a world go by
and wondering whether she belonged

An artist’s child she is, playing with fire;
uncertain if the rug would be pulled from beneath her feet
or if it would just burn in magnificent flames
scratching into her eyes calling forth her tears

She is everyone and no one
She is an idea, a rumor, an imagination
and the last piece of a puzzle that no one tried to solve

She is the pain in pleasure and the pleasure in pain
She is the terrifying beauty of life

She is addiction with a veil of innocence
clinging on to her like a possessive lover

She is curiosity with wide beckoning eyes
She is sin, a devil’s temptation
with delicate grace as enchanting as a lost nymph

She is the woman lying in his bed cocooned in sheets
stained with her blood
with a red so bright that it threatens to claw his eyes out

She is poetry with lyrical verses of wild hair
matted with dirt and blood,
ends curling down the edge of his pillow

She is music with symphonies of chattering teeth
and rustling clothes against smooth ivory skin,
borne of a night as cold as the heart she accused him of bearing

She is forgiveness with serene smiles on lips
as soft as a butterfly’s wings and a small hand outstretched
to clasp his and paint it with red pigments of defeat and strength

She is death with haunting eyes the color of warm honey
that his mum used to feed him
on rainy afternoons he spent curled up in her lap

But he has never been so peaceful
in his entire pathetic existence,
For if death is as exquisite as her
then perhaps death was what he had been searching for all along

-പ്രിയാന്ഷി ദാസ്‌

Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet
Give me a moment to breathe, to let the last tear fall
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

Let the smoke clear of the red stained cigarette
It’s funny, how even in daylight, a whisper darkens all
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet

What is love, if not an exciting game of roulette?
Time played its hand; better place a bet, fate now holds the ball
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

To be fair, it wasn’t all blood, tears and sweat
Who was the winner who was the loser? It was far too close to call
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet

Tell me, would I be easy, to write off as a love lost; to forget
Or do you, like me, spend sleepless nights, for a late night phone call
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

Don’t close your eyes, there isn’t much to regret
I’m not ready yet, to release my breath; for the curtain call
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

-പ്രിയാന്ഷി ദാസ്‌