We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.

jealousy really is a disease, isn't it?

a shame it had to infect me

i stumble over my words now.
it's a fight to wrestle them out of my mouth,
when before the flowed out like a river.

i'm fainter now.
it's a struggle to remember
that my new friends don't find me annoying
and that i don't need to lag behind,
waiting for an invitation.

i'm worse now.
summer is ending and all i have to show
is a quieter me
    a nervous me
    a wish-i-wasn't-here me
    a why-can't-i-just-do-something me

    a second-rate me

Beauty treads in coloured threads
Of shimmering silken silhouettes
Trailing shadows through the dust
Trespassing life's sweet mortal flesh
Shaped in realms of entrancing cloth
Traversing stone and this softer earth
In falling rhythms of coloured light
Reflecting images of luminous night
Caressing shapes of lyrical symmetry
Drifting in shades of woven mystery
A mirage unveils their sacred history
Wandering through the shared eclipse
Of time and nature’s mystic aspiration
Transcending all limitation of thought
The drifting image unveils the self
In unfolding waves of flowing soul
The falling falls of ascending truth
Revealing celestial images on Earth
Of the sacred soul of Mother India.

It's not me who said we weren't in love, it was you.
It's not me who said we won't make a good connection, It was you.
It's not me who said we are frenemies, It was you.
It's not me who said we couldn't go out. It was you.
It's not me who said you were ugly, it was you.
It's not me who said you were useless, It was you.
It's not me who said she loves you more than anyone could, it was you.
it was not me that called me thick, It was you.
It wasn't me that acted like we shouldn't be seen together, it was you.
It's not me who switched up and acted different when she came around, It was you.
it's not me who said I didn't love you.... my love, it was them... and you
it's not me that said we should not hug, it was you
It's not me who decided to touch your hair, it was you who asked me to do so.
its not me who kept holding my waist with a firm grip after I hugged you, it was you.
It's not me who decided that you should run your hands through my face so tenderly leaving me startled because of your alleviated touch.... it was you.
it's not me who made a decision that hurt me... its you.
It's not me that came to a conclusion to make myself cry at night, it's you.
My love.... why go against your word just to make me feel hurt
then later, you blame me because you feel mortified and in pain.
I didn't leave you in total tranquility with misery and agony.....
My heart and love.... it is not me.... it"s you

You will know what heartbreak feels like
not when he's gone
but rather,
when he stays
yet you still feel like you're alone.

LOOK look!
It's not like I like you,
I feel moved when I see you.
Maybe it's because you're cute.....
But it's cool cause I don't have any intentions of getting close to you.
We are not meant to be so I'll just take my leave.
Our path in this world is different.
That's just how it's meant to be.
Even though you didn't pay me no mind, I acted like I didn't feel down.
I cried but not when you were there.
It felt good acting perfectly fine around you thinking your feelings will one day change.
It hurts that you are happy without me even though I crave for your attention badly.
I envy the way you are happy without me...
I try to be unresisting .
Ha....
You passed me by and gave me chills but you didn't feel anything.
I feel so bad for my foolish heart that won't wish you the best because I don't want to let you go.
Again.....
It's not like I like you.
I'm just moved by your groove....

Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?