Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.

कुछ अक्स अधूरे नक्स रहे गुम
कुछ आँखें नम कुछ नींद हुई कम
कुछ लफ्ज़ रहे थे कभी अनकहे
कुछ जज्बातों में बेवज़ह कहे

कुछ धड़कन की अजब थी झनझन
कुछ मन की उलझन ख़ुद से अनबन
कुछ याद तुम्हारी कुछ बेक़रारी
कुछ हया हमारी कुछ समझदारी

कुछ कहती वो अपनी खामोशी
कुछ बेख़याली में थी मदहोशी
कब बात बात में बात हो गयी
एक दूजे में दिन रात हो गयी

टूट गयी एक कच्ची डोरी
दिल मिल गए चोरी चोरी
अब इंतेज़ार में दिन है गुजरें
तुम ही बताओ क्या हम करें

We get intoxicated
With happiness
When we reach
The pinnacle
Of happiness
That we fail
To watch our steps
And within seconds
We slip and slide
Down the edge
Of that mountain
On whose glorious peak
we climbed
By burning our muscles
And tearing our flesh

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.

You may have
the most breathtaking
Almond brown eyes
Glistening with the warmth
Of a sparkling summer dawn
But I can only see them
Brimming with infidelity and deciet
Most of the time
You may have
The most charming
Genuinely sweet smile
Exuding a comfort
That would make me forget
All the unpleasant thoughts
But I can only see
An ingratiating leer
Stuck upon your face
With a titanium bond
You may possess
The voice that makes my heart throb
The words you speak
May stir and rouse
My slaughtered hopes
But all that I hear
Everytime that I try
To envisage
an imminent possibility
Of us
Are the painful shrieks
Of grievous wounds
That I acquired
in the name of love
And their thick scars
That time refuses to erode
From the seams of my heart
Perpetually rendering
Your tireless endeavors
To embrace my soul
With an abiding affection
Indelibly futile

I ache so much right now. Curious longing to unload the weight from your heavy heart. Take my hand. Lead me through the workings of your naked core. Let guilty flowers blossom and grow between the cracks in our reality. I hunger of words missing, lost over timed silence. Cautiously I wish to know the carousel of thoughts that spin in your curious mind. Wanting so much right now to feel the distant beat of your heart. To briefly steal what is not mine.

I remember you when you were fifteen.
Holding your first cigarette between your manicured nails and smiling at the moon.
And through the years
I've seen you spend most of your time trying to escape your thoughts until six in the morning
With a book and a cat
The two things you called the greatest loves of your life.
I've seen you walk down flowery paths with the sun in your eyes
And through darkened forests, wondering desperately where the sun had gone.
I've heard you talk about death and God, your favourite whiskey and your dog. About the most shallow and mundane of events, and the deepest of philosophies.
And I see you now
In your plaid shirts and lace-up boots,
Trying to hide your face in your hair
Calmly turning away every chance at love you find
Searching desperately for distraction
In a gram of ******* and the pen and paper sitting by your bedside.

Maybe we shouldn't try to quit
Those typical habits of ours
Which makes them smile
and shake their head
With affection
Maybe we should try more often
To touch those topics
In conversations
That makes them relive
A delightful moment in time
Maybe we shouldn't get
Too busy too often
That they're forced to share
With silence
the things that they want to share
Only with us
Maybe we should try our best
Not to become
A memory
During the time that we have
To spend with them..

If many people knew
That words
Once out of our mouths
Can either pierce
A perfectly beating heart
Or caress
A woe-stricken soul
They can either be a balm
And soothe the aching burns and scars
Or lodge as bullets
Inside a mind
Bestowing wounds
To be nursed for a lifetime
They can either make
A skin shimmer with hope
Or strip it of its lustre
Like dull ancient sculptures
If only many people knew
That their words are endowed
With a power so surreal
Which can either save
Or wreak havoc
Then perhaps
Less tears would be shed
More smiles would be exchanged
And this world
Would indeed become
A better place