When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.

We all bear scars in one way or other.
Some from loving someone too deeply and some others from losing someone or something that you cared too much for.
Some scars are intentional while some others exist for stupid silly reasons.
Some we are but some we are not so proud of.

I have scars all over my body.
All over my mind and all over my soul.

I have scars on my brain due to over thinking and over analyzing incidents that haven’t even happened yet.

I have scars on my eyes for shutting it more often, for being blind to things that should’ve been taken care of.

I have scars on my nose from all those endless snobs and sniffles from my horrifying past relationships.

I have scars on my mouth from speaking the truth, only the truth and nothing but the truth.

I have scars on my neck from getting choked up on false love and fake proposals.

I have scars on my shoulders from lifting up responsibilities that I was accustomed to from an early age.

I have scars on my hands from holding onto things that weren’t supposed to be mine from the very start.

I have scars on my chest from my ice cold heart that has been stomped over and over multiple times.

I have scars on my lungs from the “occasional” stress buster cigarettes that I am addicted to every now and then.

I have scars on my stomach from one too many butterflies that flew when we first met.

I have scars on my legs from running, miles away from people and that place I used to call home.

I have scars on my skin from the many tattoos I got done that helps me reassure my self-worth.

I have scars on my soul from trying hard to pull myself together, calm me down and compose myself through the rampant storm that’s been raging in my life.

I have all these scars. All of them.
And they don’t scare me now even though they hurt like hell, at times.
They’ve become a part of me and looking back, they are just reminders of who I was, what I have been through my life and the person it has made me become.
They don’t scare me anymore because they define who I am now.

A survivor.

Unluckily, not every frog you kiss turns into a Prince Charming.

We differ in our bodies.

We differ in our shapes, our sizes.

We differ in our race, our religion.

We differ in our color, our language.

We differ in our qualifications, our occupations.

We are different.

We differ by all means.

Yet we are all the same.

We smile alike, breathe alike and feel alike.

Our hearts beat in the same rhythm.

Our beauty lies skin deep.

We differ in everything yet we are all the same.

Bonded by the same emotions, born out of love.

Our strength infinite, our souls unburned.

We are capable of love, war and everything in between.

So stand united, cease every **** day.

Together let’s show the world how to make each day Our day.

I knew that our time together in this world was limited. I knew that sooner or later one of us had to say goodbye to each other. And yet your death took me by surprise, shocked me to the core and the truth is that I don't think I will be able to recover from this. Ever.
This was the first time ever, I understood what death really was, how painful it felt and that how different it is when the person you loved is no more on Earth. It took me all these days and an immense amount of courage to even think about writing this. But I had to do this, for my own sake.

I still remember the day I met you. You were this chubby little fur ball of awesomeness that lit up every room you enter with your innocent eyes and cutest mannerisms. We bonded quickly and you were an integral part of all the crazy stupid games that my sister and I used to play, back in the old days. I remember how you used to get jealous when we ignored you, but of course, we did that on purpose so as to hear you whine impatiently while doing all kinds of silly acts just to get our attention.

I don’t just remember you for all the fun we had. I remember you even for those bad days of my life. I remember hugging you and sitting next to you silently when everything was breaking apart. I remember crying next to you when there were days I just felt like giving up. I remember talking to you endlessly about how I wish our lives were simpler again. But of course, you never uttered a word. All you did was lean onto me, while slowly resting your head on my shoulder for me to stroke your head gently, soothing us both down.

I remember how I didn’t turn my back on you to say goodbye the day I left our home. I heard you screaming and crying at the top of your voice as if you were begging me to stay as you saw me walk away.  Nobody knows this, but one of the reasons I made silly excuses and kept coming back home was just to see you. There were countless times I peeked over the front gate, just to catch a glimpse of you every time I walked past our home. And sometimes all I could do was just hear your sound but that was more than enough for me simply because knowing you were okay made me feel okay.

A day never passed by where I haven’t thought of you. The five years we spent apart has given me endless opportunities to talk to every random person about you. And for the brief time I was home again, I really thought that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. But unfortunately, that didn’t quite work out. It killed me that I had to say goodbye to you again. I remember kissing your forehead before leaving home for the last time and you screaming and calling me back as I exited.

I just want to let you know how much you mean to me. For you weren’t just my baby, my best friend, my brother, my son, my playmate. You were and will always be my most precious childhood memory. Now that you are gone, I will try and hold your memory close. I miss you with every breath I take. I miss you, Jimmy. Every day, I get on social media, I see endless posts and videos about other dogs and it kills me inside. It kills me because you were the best dog ever. You were such a good boy and your existence has kept me happy since the day I met you. I couldn’t tell you that but I want you to know that.

I hope you have made new friends in heaven. Even if you haven’t it’s okay. I’ll join you there one day and together, we will make countless new memories each day.

Like an iceberg you hit me.
Sinking me down to the darkest abyss.
Revealing just your icy tip.
Leaving me wondering what lies beneath.

The moment I saw you
I had my eyes set on you.
Just you.

You were a temptation that could easily make
my lonesome heart melt with ache.
The way you were just sitting there
out in the cold, slightly frozen
drove me crazy with a thousand emotion.

Spellbound, speechless
I leaned up against the clear glass door
wanting you and nothing more.
One look at you has put my,
heart and brain on a constant fight,
Hence I knew it was love at first sight.

As I stood there staring, with your image carved in my mind
and locked in my heart,
I couldn't help but imagine the countless admirers
you might have left behind.
Lost in thoughts I failed to notice
that you were somebody else's first choice.

Suddenly I felt a pull in the pit of my stomach,
it wasn't hunger but something much deeper.
What the heck? Was it my bad luck?
For I  had just lost you to that compulsive eater.


It was a pain I could never take
Oh! How I wish you were mine

'My Sweet Blueberry Cheesecake'.

A woman bleeds every month
not by her choice
but because she was biologically programmed that way.
So I'm sure a small heartbreak
is nothing she can't possibly handle
or get over with,
with time.

I've been loved.
I've been lost.
But never have I ever loved and lost myself this way.

Every time he opened his mouth,
it was either to kiss or to lie.
Eventually, I got sick of both.

Find a place where you can be yourself for the day or night.
A place where your mind doesn’t over thinks constantly
about whether things are going wrong or right.

Find a place that gets your topsy-turvy love life.
A place that reminds you, you are beautiful the way you are,
you don't have to go under a knife.

Find a place that soothes down all your worries.
A place that doesn’t bother how much money you’ve left in your account and asks you why settle down now, no hurries.

Find a place that lets you live life innocently.
A place where you don’t have to worry about today's headlines or
last night’s secrets, to live life vivaciously.

Find a place that smells like freedom.
A place where you can laugh, yell, sing, dance and
doesn’t require anyone else’s opinion to validate your selfdom.

Find a place where you never limit yourself.
A place where you explore your abilities, create something beautiful and
let yourself grow, flow and truly find oneself.

Find a place where you feel secure.
A place where you don’t have to be scared of the ones that have done you wrong or have hurt you or made you feel impure.

Find a place where you can be at peace.
A place where you don’t have to be cautious of your own actions or
be bothered about others labeling you their constant conversation piece.

Find a place that makes you fight battles courageously.
A place where you finally embrace your flaws, earn your scars and
learn to live life impulsively.

Find a place that keeps prejudices away.
A place where no one curses you for your mistakes but helps you realize and learn from them in every way.

Find a place that brightens up your every day.
A place where you learn to channel the happiness, sorrow, anger and freedom and pain buried deep within you, the right way.

But most importantly,
find a place where you can love and be loved.

And when you finally find that place, hold on to it for ages to come.
Cherish each moment you spent there and call it Home.

The alarm buzzed.
I didn't hit the snooze button.
Instead, I woke up. I woke up and it felt different already.

I didn't love you anymore.

I didn't want to stay in my bed and cuddle with you. My bed sheet didn't smell like you. My misbuttoned shirt didn't crave for your attention. Nor did my shabby hair locks long for your touch. My room felt bigger, brighter. And the frosty window pane looked clearer than before. The walls stopped closing in. I could see things vividly. I could hear my heartbeat. I could feel the warmth of my hands. I could move my lips. My neck felt less burdened. Most importantly, I could breathe, normally. My eyes weren't watery anymore and that pain that weighed down on my chest was long gone.
All that gone. Just like that.

I didn't love you anymore.

I didn't think of you in the shower. Your thoughts never came rushing into my head. Your memories didn't bother me. My morning coffee tasted better and the newspaper made much sense. The last voicemail you send seemed cracky and those photographs on the wall were all washed out. I forgot your smile, the way your eyes glanced into mine. Everything about you was a faded memory now. For the first time in many long years, I felt no pain. I felt free. I felt like myself. I felt alone. But being alone didn't scare me at all. Being alone felt natural, quite natural.

I smiled. Just because.
I didn't love you anymore.

My dearest Jocelyn,

The very thoughts of you make me Homesick.
It's just as beautiful as miserable it sounds.

Who and What decides the worth of a Woman?
The clothes she wears?
The oaths she swears?
The roles she bears?
The circumstances she dares?
The lipstick she adores?
The men she abhors?
The challenges she faces?
The life goals she aces?
The things she's bid adieu?
Her untampered list of rue?
Me or You?

I have been quiet for a long time.
But that doesn't give you the right to take my silence for granted or to taunt me, torture me or traumatize me even.
For there is always a calm before the storm and
I don't intend to say that I carry a storm inside me or with me
because I am one.

I miss waking up to the smell of your delicious pancakes.
Sweetly covered in maple syrup.
And the sweetest smile you served with it.

Now all I can wake up to
is to the smell of burnt breakfast.
Sugarcoated with cooked up lies.
That I keep feeding myself to stay alive.

But how can someone
fall in love with the Moon
knowing it has a darker side?

I should be happy.

I have
Miles to go in life,
Moments to look forward to,
Millions of people to meet with,
Marvelous books to read,
Movies to watch,
Music to groove to,
Masterpieces to make and
Much friends that really
Make me happy.
Yet I am not.
My mind wonders why.

Notice that girl.

Notice that girl who has her long hair left like an uneven tangled mess.

Notice that girl who keeps biting her nails even though they are short and brittle.

Notice that girl if she has water welled up in her eyes, all the time.

Notice that girl if she bites her lip a little too hard.

Notice that girl who has a pair of sweaters and sweatpants put on, often worn and slightly torn.

Notice that girl if she looks like a hot mess but still doesn’t care.

Notice that girl if she seems awfully anti-social, passive-aggressive, extremely fearful and isolated.

Notice that girl for the panic attacks she gets for no reason.

Notice that girl for her unusual affinity towards a good cup of coffee.

Notice that girl if she seems to be an insomniac and is awake drawing circles on a blank piece of paper regardless of 2 am or pm.

Notice that girl who seems to have been lost in her own thoughts even in the middle of a conversation.

Notice that girl who looks like she needs a hug.

And when you finally do notice her, hug her tight.

Hug her as if she was one of your own.

Trust me when I say she needs it more than anyone else.

Darling it’s a cruel cruel world out there,
one that thrives on danger and despair.
And you’re neither a victim nor a prey,
but the one that bears the mark of a survivor.

I'm sorry this ever happened to you.
I'm sorry you were just an 8 year old, so full of life and you didn't deserve this pain.
I'm sorry those pedophilic pigs preyed on your innocence.
I'm sorry you were born in India- a country powered by people, pioneered by strong men of principles but still feel powerless to protect its own people.
I'm sorry our laws are enforced to protect the lawless.
I'm sorry there is a *****, so possessed by religion out there who passed a mean comment on you.
I'm sorry there are countless many who favors his opinion strongly.
I'm sorry none of us could protect you or bring you back to life.
I'm sorry that I can only hope hell does exist and those men do rot in its deepest pits.
I'm sorry all of us can only sympathize and none of us can empathize.
I'm sorry I have no voice of my own.
I'm sorry my child, I truly am because you were born a girl.
I'm sorry to say how lucky I feel to be alive, that my sister or mother or friends are unpolluted and still breathing just fine.
I'm sorry this poem is pointless as the many hashtags that come and go after each **** but I had to write this for my own peace of mind.
I'm sorry as I can only sit back and pray there won't be anymore Asifas.

You see
Cards, Chocolates and Red Roses.
I see
Lies, Fake promises, and Fleeting Proposals.

I am the other woman.

The kind you think you never want to fall in love with.
The kind you've told yourself not to tangle or tamper with.
The kind that you compete with but cannot put up with.
The kind that you dream of but doesn't deserve to be with.

I wish I hadn't known love like this.
I wish I hadn't known this pain.
I wish somebody had warned me that this thing I felt for him was not exactly what he had, to give back.
I wish somebody had stopped me from giving it my all.
I wish somebody had smothered me rather than see me fall in love.
I wish.

Being a poet
is both a pain and a privilege.

All you do is
bleed your emotions
on a thousand pages
while people sing your praises
for ages.

Between all the could-haves and would-haves,
here I stand empty.

Stop blaming your body
Stop scarring your soul
Stop teasing your thoughts
Stop feeding your fears
Stop regretting your resolutions
Stop sulking in your own sorrows.
Discard your demons
Empty your expectations
Rise, Roar and Rebuild yourself
Only to be whole again.

His face, the sun.
Never get too close or
you could burn to ashes.
His smile, the moon.
You could lose yourself
in its charm forever.
His eyes, twinkling stars.
You could stare at them for long and
never lose hope.
His kiss, thousand galaxies.
Makes you wonder and
never wander back.

Dear Mirror,

It's  my bad luck that
you are just as broken as
I am.

Take me to a land,
where memories never fade,
moments last forever,
summers never end,
where happiness isn't a choice
and sadness ceases to exist.

Take me back to a time,
when everything was perfect,
you and I made much sense,
when silent kisses were a bliss,
and love was at the top of my priority list.

I love my body.
The way it's imperfectly perfect,
slightly curvy around the edges
inevitably flawed,
tortured and tormented
whiplashed and backstabbed
but still and always a great piece of art.

I love my face.
The way its burdened by two chubby cheeks,
bears a thousand emotions no one can perceive,
how marvelously it masks my mind,
ignored and ridiculed
yet still chooses to smile.

I love my skin.
The way it is cold and warm at the same time,
pale, puckered with fear
tanned, tarnished with regret,
scrutinized and scarred
but still glows.

I love my hair.
The way it never listens to anyone but itself,
acts as a tangled mess,
an untangled spirit more or less,
chopped off, pulled at
yet subjects to shine magically.

I love my lips.
The way it speaks with kindness,
guards silence and is often
mistaken for its innocent kisses,
parched, bled and muted
but still a fiery, crimson code of concupiscence.

I love my fingers.
The way they wish to be intertwined with yours forever,
snaps, shushes and points
at the slightest arguments that arrives
with such brevity and righteousness
always kept crossed for better things to come by.

I love everything about myself.
I am proud of my body and everything that comes with it.
What I don’t like though
is the way you make me feel about myself.

For once in my life,
if someone asks me "Are you ok?"
I want to reply "Yes, I'm fine!" with a smile
and really mean it that time.

You are not the movies you see
You are not the music you groove to
You are not the food you eat
You are not the people you talk to
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the words you swear
You are neither stupid nor ugly
You are neither too skinny nor too chubby
You are neither too perfect nor a defect
You are not a puppet or a muppet
You are not who others want you to be
And you are not someone society compels you to be.
You are not society's stereotype.
You are not going to let anyone label you.

You are you.
You are something much beyond.

If I'm dead tomorrow
I want my body to be laid peacefully
on soft green grass.
I want vines to run through my veins.
I want flowers to grow out of my heart
and bloom across my lungs.
I want to create a garden with the aroma
that reminds you of the earth kissed by rain.
With every breath I take,
I want to create a new life.
I want to paint a new picture.
I want to design a new symphony.
Through them, I want to see
the moving clouds, passing birds,
and butterflies.
And slow dance with the wind,
gaze at countless stars
and breathe, once again.
Till you decide to walk all over me,
grind me, and smother me
back to the dirt where
I shall lay awake waiting to feel alive,
once again.

Do not fall in love with a Poet.
They'll cut you deep with their words.
They'll devour your pain and make tiny love notes out of it.
They'll bleed you out and call it Poetry.

Everything I felt,
And everything you made me feel
was a perfect illusion.