to you,

I’d like to believe -
that meeting you was fate,
that it wasn’t just a deranged connection, neither will it ever be a coincidence of sorts.
to me you’re unlike any other.*

Knowing you, was being home.
A place to rest my mind against yours,
A place to be surrounded by the breeze of your thoughts and wisdom.
Where every story you told me was like an age old letter kept in the crevice of the walls,
untouched,
perfectly enveloped;
How is it that amidst a sea of wandering minds, you find a mind that wants to wander yours?

You made me realise that love is easy, that it’s not rocket science and that it isn’t complicated,
That we tie ourselves up in difficult knots
and that love is simply, as easy as it sounds.
To me, you’re familiar -
a past life, a divine intervention or probably a second self as you call it.

You make me want to read you and learn you and annotate you,
with my silly stickies and neon pens, and
fill you up with all my flowers hidden away in dusty old books.

Somedays, your sweet words ask me to write you a poem,
about the whirlwind my life is right now,
and I want to tell you about it;
about how on days when I’m walking the streets of this unfamiliar city
and I look back -  
I don’t see the traces of my footprints.
When I come back home
exhausted from the weight that my shoulders could ever uphold -
I find no feather of tranquility to tickle me out of weariness.
When my unhinged, running at 3000 thoughts per second brain
seeks frantically, a resting ground -
It is only ever stomped on with battering noises and formalities.

But how do I tell you, that I can endure a lifetime of lonesome dreary days like these -
If it means that every night, without fail
the warmth of your pacific voice would caress my soul,
That the only thing worth thinking about
is the idea of your presence around me;
even in spirit.
That on some level, I’ve imagined a world that exists in my head entirely built by you -
The expanse of the deserts,
poetry for streets,
walking on water,
monuments for homes,
and you.
but how do I tell you?

Sometimes I feel stuck between the layers of the sky,
A void, nothingness.
The clouds below, the space above.
It’s like I’m floating in mid air, and at times I like it that way,
But I know that eventually I need my ground to steady me;
To let gravity pull me down with all its might, as it should -
But when I put my weight on the earth
Where do I go? and to whom?

I find myself in an endless loop of uncertainties.
Almost as if I’m stranded on a desert of yearning and longing;
and your embodiment is simply a mirage,
falling in and out of the abstraction of us.

In my infinite monolithic dreams -
I see you standing at the far end of the sea
where the sky meets the land and forgets to leave,
and I am like a light stretched out, dispersed in the breeze;
I can almost touch you, but you could barely feel.

At times I read in-between the lines;
I find urgencies in your words as if you’re reaching out,
and maybe you are, but how can I know for sure?
So I sit still, with your mind and my heart -
I sit still and let your words consume me endlessly.

I’m torn between fragments of momentary bliss,
my nights end with the mornings,
and you fulfil my empty heart.
This imprisoned joy, this strange sense of belonging, this purpose of being.
Everything, everything.
These moments of shifted colours;
How long until it’s taken away from me?

On nights unguided by the moon
my thoughts fail me, constantly.
at every bleak attempt made to unlearn you,
there’s a reflection of you on the ripples of the sea.
at every bleak attempt made to unlearn you,
a melancholic ballad takes flight from my heart,
at every page of every book,
in between the lines of Hemingway,
at a peaceful walk
on a silent night
at every step of every way,
Unknowingly, unexpectedly, somehow, through some way
your light follows me, everywhere.

I think holding on to hope, helps.
& I think if I hold on to it like the way that I do -
you won’t be so far away from me;
that your spirit will finally take shape,
that it’ll finally have eyes to hold my gaze,
that it’ll finally have strength bigger than
mine to carry my being.

But if ever, our worlds cease to collide -
If ever your voice blurs into oblivion.

Know,

That your subconscious is eternally linked to mine,
That wherever you go, and whatever you see -
I will walk parallel to you,
even if we’re distanced through space and time;
All my of reality will merely exist in theory, and I’ll accept my grief for gratitude.
I’ll hold your eyes close to my heart, and see whatever you see;
Even in another world,
I’ll only walk parallel to you.

There will always always be a little bit of you in everything I’ll ever love.

All the happiest part of my heart will only ever be yours.
Only your name, and your memories, your words against everything else I’ve ever known.

i've been gone for too long
stopped for sometime;

ran out of words
             out of emotions or maybe feelings

of a deep, pitch black void inside of me.


but, it feels different now
as if i'm whole, maybe mended;

        i enjoy lying on my bed on a sunday morning
             as the sun spears my eye,
                      it doesn't hurt anymore.


i wrote a letter to myself after a long time,
and the first sentence was a happy one, surprisingly;

          i wrote about a new jacket i bought the other day,
                about filling my basket with flowers i killed,
                      only to keep them alive in my books.


i feel a change within me, a new spirit, rush
springing up in me, wanting to explode

            everywhere,
            

and honestly-
for the first time,
          
           i feel as if i'm back
          
                                 back and alive;

The stars I see from my rooftop,
that gleam and twinkle amidst the sky.
They stay at place, their home I'd say,
Is where they were, and truly belong.

The wings I feel, the delicate wings,
of birds that share a profound sound.
They help me dream, as if I'm drowned,
In the thought of being, one amongst them.

The sun sets and rise, the glowing globe,
makes me wonder what it's like,
to be able to set and rise with it,
Up in the sky and down in sea.

My dream is not a void, neither is it an abstract need.
My dream is a closure of my raging thoughts,
knocking on doors to let it be-
A part of my deranged imagination.

It is but, a thought; let free.

All I wanna do right now

              is break into pieces and
    
                               never be fixed again

Believe now, Death is just a wisper away/