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1.5k · Apr 2017
Direction
Nayana Nair Apr 2017
The direction you have looked at
all your life.
Looking for the lost.
Searching for the reasons.
Waiting for your life.
Look opposite that direction.
You will find a kind heart.
It won’t be what you want or need.
But it will be enough
to live your life.
Enough to make you
never want to look back.
938 · Jan 2017
In the darkness
Nayana Nair Jan 2017
I see this small image of me

in my mind’s eye.

In a world filled with black fog,

there in the center stands someone.

Who feels like

my life personified.

I feel I am copy of whoever

stands in that darkness.

I feel I only exist there.

I feel I am the darkness.
916 · Jan 2018
Meet somewhere
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
My hands
have always been empty
even with
your hands to hold.
Let’s meet somewhere
where you need not be seen,
where I need not be invisible.
848 · Feb 2017
Misread
Nayana Nair Feb 2017
I have stacks and heaps of poems I have misread.

Where I filled the blanks

which were not meant to be filled.

Where I was supposed to stand stupefied by absurdity of life

I tried to find some order , some reason.

Where I was supposed to sit and listen to worries

I gave advice.Or worse, interfered in lives not mine.

It was always about what I could give to life,

than what life has given to me.

So I have suffered long

trying to fill silences in heart

and words in blank pages.

And never to have made a difference.

Never to have known the beauty

of being incomplete and unfinished.
805 · Jan 2017
United
Nayana Nair Jan 2017
I take each step forward

thinking about the steps you took without me.

My heart has faith

in the love that it felt

and it knows not how to give up.

But the pain of your indifference and neglect

hits the shore made of pebbles and shells

we collected all our life,

for the one we shall love.

But tonight, I am leaving this shore,

venturing into waters that I do not know of,

to feel what you feel.

So we may be united in hatred,

if not in love.
735 · Jan 2017
Not Mine
Nayana Nair Jan 2017
In an unguarded moment

I saw what it is, to not see myself.

The fogged up mirror

didn’t let my reflection reach me.

And what reached me was

just a picture colored out of lines.

The more I looked at my obscured face,

the more I was convinced

that the faces was not mine.

The more I was convinced of the face being a stranger’s,

more easier it was for me to love and accept it.

If I could see myself as someone else

how easier it would be to live my life.

Not knowing what I know about myself,

not knowing what I think.

To  be what I am and what I am not at the same time.

How easier it would be , if this is

what I saw in mirror everyday.

How beautiful can be not knowing, not seeing.

Only smudged shades of colors.

A face not mine.
612 · Jan 2017
I have an Idea
Nayana Nair Jan 2017
I have an idea of Myself.

And how often, in the unregistered intervals of time,

When thoughts of world avoided me

with as much  fervor as I avoid this world.

I think of what I am,

I realize that of all the people I have deceived,

the one I fooled with perfection was myself.

When I see what I do not want to,

my mind desperately grabs onto a stray thought,

to distract me from understanding

Of what I am about to realize.



But I know this game too well

and this is not a secret that I have uncovered

for the first time in life.

It is what I half-remember in all my waking hours

and all that I know of in my sleep.


I know this lie, I have been telling myself.

But today is not the day,

to shatter my Idea of Me

with one cruel realization.



The day, when it comes,

shall be the last I breathe as me.

For I cherish this Idea

more than myself.
603 · Feb 2017
Playgrounds
Nayana Nair Feb 2017
The breaths not taken are accumulating.

It mixes with the tears not shed.

Creates a poison that lingers in my thought

but doesn’t flow into my blood.

To keep my barely alive to suffer.

Suffer from a poison of my own making.



Slowly I forget

one small detail at a time.

I realize it only when I see this gap in memory

that my frail imagination fails to fill.

Words are slipping out of my hands.

My thoughts are no longer mine.



All the parks have become graveyards.

Where tomorrow died a slow, slow death.

And it slips into an even slower decay.
572 · Apr 2017
These Words
Nayana Nair Apr 2017
I stop reading.

I look at these clumsily scribbled words.

I look at these fine print.

And I reach out my hand

to the page

and touch these words

to know

whether they really exist.

I reach out

to grab onto that hand,

so I can come out of water

for a moment,

to take breath

and remember what it was like

to not drown.

For that moment

I keep reading.
528 · Apr 2018
Residue of Questions
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
Every smile I have ever faked
leaves a residue
of questions on my lips.
Asking,
“Why is it,
that this smile can’t be real?
Why is it,
that the world is so easily convinced by my lie?
Why don’t they try to break
this facade when they see it
in which I am trapped?”
501 · Mar 2018
Everything He Was
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
Everything he was,
everything he did-
was a constant effort
to be true to the image
he had of himself.

He reminds me of struggle
to be someone else
while believing that he is
struggling to be himself.
459 · Jan 2018
I Once Wrote
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
I once wrote a beautiful poem

which sounded like a happy child

playing in an empty church.

The echoes of his laughter and footsteps

playing in a never ending loop.

But I have never been a happy child.

I have never been to a church.

The poem was beautiful.

It was just not me.
459 · Feb 2018
All Wrong
Nayana Nair Feb 2018
I cried and complained
and wrote of this sadness.
I said the same stuff again and again
and still I felt
that I wasn’t saying enough.
I saw your face
in every word I wrote.
I saw your face
till I couldn’t see anymore.
Till I became blind
to all reason.
Till I created the world
where I do not have to wait for you.
Where you didn’t exist, I didn’t exist.
But it was all wrong.
I realized you had to exist somewhere
for me to keep on writing.
457 · Feb 2017
Small World
Nayana Nair Feb 2017
I see these places that will remain

as strange as they are to me today.

I see these little people scattered on the streets.

I see them locked away in a world not their own.

This lonely expanse on this never ending piece of earth.

And I see these toy like cars and trucks.

Somehow they don’t belong together.

I try to guess (,to think)

what it feels like to live in such small world

and not on this huge earth.

I guess they don’t know what I see from here.

That life had a dead end.

And at that end

either

we can choose to be in tinier coffins

or

we can be a part of never ending sky

and this ever nourishing earth.
456 · Mar 2018
Word of Hope
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
There is a soft tune that
moves beneath your fingers
as they move over the pages
and words and worlds
that you will never see.
All the words of hope
that I whisper
to the you
who exists within these barriers
of skin, bones and sorrow.
I fear these words will be like the music
that doesn’t stop but fades,
dissolving into time and distance.
Like that music
it will pass from me to you,
from you to nothingness.
434 · Mar 2018
River
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
Rivers of people
crowded the alleys of my mind.
Every thought of mine
had to go through them.
And they were relentless.
By the time it made through them,
it was not the same.
That beautiful new born thought
had turned into a old stranger.
I learned one thing
that I can never have a thought
or an action
that is truly my own.
And even when the building and the skies
of my mind decay,
the people in those alleys will live on.
433 · Jan 2018
Complain
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
I have to sit quiet,

Wait for the wind

To blow away my tears before they fall.

I have to keep watch

On what I say, what I think.

Even in my sleep, I can’t betray myself.

Gulp each cry, each word I speak,

To be dropped off on a paper no one reads.

Everyone wants a rock to hold onto.

A quick mire, no one needs.

For what do I owe

This heartbreaking happiness?

This eternal river of tears?

For my love, my ego and my fears.

Who can I turn to?

Who can I blame?

For these sad affairs and my sorry state.

My story is better unwritten.

My sorrows untold.

People are fed up of giving sympathies after all.

Bound by the choices, by free will, I made.

I do not have the liberty to complain.
429 · Sep 2018
Lost Color
Nayana Nair Sep 2018
The moon shines in my tear lined eyes.
On the edges of my nails that have lost their color.
Tonight once again
light falls on only on those bits of me
that are in no need for the love of a neutral god.
422 · Apr 2017
Lines
Nayana Nair Apr 2017
I feel two lines etched on my face.

One longer than the other.

Feeling a little more colder

each time I step out.

They will lie there,

and dry there,

but never erased.
397 · Mar 2018
Stuck in my heart
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I sat on the stairs
long after they stopped shouting.
As the shout and anger
made room for themselves
in our lives.
As muted cries
became muted sighs.
I would look at the sky
and see no stars,
but only the tears
that pooled my eyes.
For long, a portion of time
got stuck in my heart
to remind of how lonely a child could be
in spite of having all.
378 · Feb 2018
I Can't Hear Your Sighs
Nayana Nair Feb 2018
I can’t hear your sighs

while you think I do not care enough.

I would love to bind myself and my life

around you,

Had I not been so sure

that freedom is the only measure of happiness for me.



The love they talk about

is not in my heart.

I can’t harbor such sweetness.

I can’t live in surrender.

I was not made for that.

My heart was made to be loved,

but to be cherished.

I won’t settle for anything less.

I do not ask for anything more.



My idea of love was never

the protection or sense of safety I always lacked.

Or admiration true or false

that could put to sleep the complexes I have.

Or to be touched in ways

that make human hearts race.



My idea of love was

to be so precious to someone

that they you never

change me or break me.



You changed me.

You broke me.

And I only remember the sighs you took while doing so.

Making me feel less than what I am.



But still, I breathe the same air as you,

Cause,

Once,

You almost loved me.
378 · Apr 2018
Words of Hope
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
There is a soft tune that
moves beneath your fingers
as they move over the pages
and words and worlds
that you will never see.
All the words of hope
that I whisper
to the you
who exists within these barriers
of skin, bones and sorrow.
I fear these words will be like the music
that doesn’t stop but fades,
dissolving into time and distance.
Like that music
it will pass from me to you,
from you to nothingness.
374 · May 2018
Stuck in my heart
Nayana Nair May 2018
I sat on the stairs
long after they stopped shouting.
As the shout and anger
made room for themselves
in our lives.
As muted cries
became muted sighs.
I would look at the sky
and see no stars,
but only the tears
that pooled my eyes.
For long, a portion of time
got stuck in my heart
to remind of how lonely a child could be
in spite of having all.
369 · Jun 2018
Must Run
Nayana Nair Jun 2018
I knew in that moment
that I must run out into the darkness
and find a way
that even the streetlights avoid.
Find a place with no roads
where flowers of new season
will hide my unsure steps.
I knew I had to run away
Or I will never be the same.
So that I don’t loose everything
I (almost) have.
I must run back to that house in wilderness
that I left behind,
to the life I left behind.
So that there are no more graves
of my loved ones
with my name as the murderer engraved.
368 · Mar 2018
Flowers, Skies, and Me
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I place myself in the center of room
as you panic to pack up your stuff,
being careful that nothing is left behind.
There are flowers growing in the corners of the room
that ask you to stay.
There are green skies
that we painted.
There are flaws your and mine
that decorate this wall.
There are TV channels
that we can surf through,
there are days to be wasted.
And I want to waste them with you.



I want you to stay.
I almost blurt it out.
But had it not been for these flowers and skies
and days written in color of your name,
I could have left
to find the dreams I never had.
There is a chandelier
of blood red glass
of your sighs and goodbyes.
I know you are not running away from me
but from our devils,
from our destruction,
that lay between us
every night.
365 · Mar 2018
Knock
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
My life is divided into different rooms
as is my heart.
For as long as I remember,
from the time I used to care for decorations
to the time I am too lazy to clean up.
From the moments of sweet solitude by the window
to the clinking glasses and winking eyes.
The room belonged more to them
than to me.



And I often found it unsettling,
as if on a night
when I would be hiding under covers
not knowing what to fear,
someone would knock at the door
and with that knock, would come a pair of shoes
and a set of clothes, holding a person
whose face, motive or aim
would soon be inconsequential.



And slowly she would drag me
out of each room,
snatching away each memory that she touched,
knocking down my bookcases filled with my escape,
tearing away the wallpapers
behind which I hid my unvoiced cries.
The doors would be shut on my face,
leaving me out in a storm on a moonless night,
leaving me alone to face all that I didn’t know of
taking away all that I know.
361 · Jul 2018
Flower, Skies, and Me
Nayana Nair Jul 2018
I place myself in the center of room
as you panic to pack up your stuff,
being careful that nothing is left behind.
There are flowers growing in the corners of the room
that ask you to stay.
There are green skies
that we painted.
There are flaws your and mine
that decorate this wall.
There are TV channels
that we can surf through,
there are days to be wasted.
And I want to waste them with you.

I want you to stay.
I almost blurt it out.
But had it not been for these flowers and skies
and days written in color of your name,
I could have left
to find the dreams I never had.
There is a chandelier
of blood red glass
of your sighs and goodbyes.
I know you are not running away from me
but from our devils,
from our destruction,
that lay between us
every night.
359 · Apr 2018
Tell Me
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
I stand here
beneath the secrets piling over me
at the edge, looking at how I spill out of my own body.
Not able to contain myself.
Not able to restain myself
from looking into the darkness,
from looking into the depth of me
where lies the skeletons of many friendships
and one rare love.
Many managed to stay afloat
not wanting to be a part of me,
knowing what I was.
While I just wanted them to stay
for a moment
to tell me what they knew
tell me what I was.
So that I may not feel
like an impostor in my own life.
358 · Mar 2018
Hate You
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I saw you

soft as the clouds of heaven.

I felt you

covered in the condensed drops

of love that the whole world breathes out.

And I hated you for it.

I saw your skin marked with me.

I saw the cracks in your smile

covered in my kisses.

I saw my reflection in your heart

that was made for my thirst.

I saw my heart.

I saw what hid there.

I saw the storm that never calms.

I saw the poison that has no color.

I saw your eyes become the clouds,

I saw it rain.

I saw you tremble as earthquake

that tries to contain itself.

I saw you make your home

in my storm.

And I hated you for that.
354 · Jan 2018
Tonight
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
There is a lot

I have to ask for.

A lot I have to pray.

Knowing love is not enough

To live a life.

I’d rather ask for respect.

I’d rather ask for understanding.

I’d rather have a heart that adores me.

I’d rather have a heart that feels my pain.

I’d rather ask for friendship.

I’d rather beg for care.

Love is meant to be all this.

But somehow it isn’t.

Tonight I won’t ask for all

That I have lost to love.

Tonight I won’t ask

For a change of heart, a miracle.

For tonight, sleep will be enough.

Is that too much to ask?
347 · Mar 2018
Some other time
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I want to tell you
how you slowly became the tree
that guards me from the happiness and sadness
of the world,
and let me create my own.
How it was lovely to see you grow.
How it hurt to love you.
How beautiful you were even in the worst of your moments.
How I selfishly wanted to be the only scar on your heart
and only smile on your face.
How,on days that I desperately
looked for a reason to stay,
yours was the only name
that anchored me in this world.
I will tell you how I always lived
dreaming of death,
dreaming of release,
and how thankful I am that
you kept me alive.
I will tell you all this.
But not today.
Some other time.
347 · May 2018
Be You
Nayana Nair May 2018
Oh! Let me be you.
Who walks with a sun in your pocket
for every rainy day.
Who stood at crossroads
and decided which road shouldn’t exist.
Let me be you for a day.
So that I am not the one
who hides in hollow words,
who makes her bed on the dreams of others.
Let me be you,
so that I can put out my hand
always with the confidence
knowing that the love I ask
shall be given.

But what is this that I feel?
Why my hands shake?
Why my heart cries?

Is it because
the one who is breaking the wall
with bare bleeding hands
has the same pain, same fear
as the one who is hiding behind that wall.
Is it because
this love, this life
leaves no one without scar.
342 · Mar 2018
Let me sell you a story
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
Let me sell you a story.
A lie
that my hollow life could live in.
A home that can be changed to my need.
A reality that never exists,
but is as real as
the stories,
the lives
that we avoided by one choice.
Let me sell you a story,
let me sell you my dreams.
I have no need for them anyway.
338 · Feb 2018
Nightmare
Nayana Nair Feb 2018
There are nightmares
growing in me.
There are mirrors
where my reflection
is your face.
And they do not look at me
but through me.
In your eyes
I see the dream
that was almost mine.
336 · Jan 2018
The Journey
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
She walked down the road

In the middle of “everywhere”.

With the wind ruffling through her skirt

And wild flowers stomped beneath her feet.

Her hair twisted around her little finger

Along with his heart.

Of the one who had walked by her side

For an eternity.

His one hand carrying the luggage

And other clutching his heart.

His world was what she saw

And his “everywhere” where she walked.

Silences were made

To be filled by her words.

and her pauses were

meant to be filled by his voice.

The companion in their travel

Was the transient fluttering image

Of his arms entwined in hers

And her laughter weaving

A dream in his eyes.

What this image was to them?

A mirage?

A promise?

That gave them courage to take one more step.

That made every loss bearable.

Or a reality of their hearts?

An old silly idea of romance

That found no place in this world

Maybe found a place in theirs.
331 · Mar 2018
Your Pieces
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
There were pieces of you
that were not mine.
I tried to make you my picture,
tried to get rid of the part
where I could see reflection
of loves that could have almost stayed for life.
I wanted you for me
and that’s where I went wrong.
331 · Sep 2018
Stranded
Nayana Nair Sep 2018
The tissues I have cried into
are my excuses,
to hide the clutter of calls and love I forgot to return.
Sometimes it is too late to clear the mess I made.
It is more difficult to retain my will to clean it all up,
which sort of made me guilty
of creating another sad person.
But what is another tissue in another sea.
Everyone dreams of sailing into a brighter morning
leaving behind their darkness in another’s mind.
What if I am as selfish as them.
What is another ship, another selfish wish
amidst thousand such others-
all stranded on a water-less heart
all looking for a flood, instead of directions.
321 · Sep 2018
Burnt Dreams
Nayana Nair Sep 2018
My night melts into dreams of you
and even when I loose my dream
I loose my sleep,
the night stays with me.
The broken strand of hair on my shoulder
could have been your tear
if it had not passed through this night
I live with,
if it was not born in the fragile dream
that you are.
320 · Mar 2018
Home
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I will give you a list houses
that once used to be my home
and addresses that are the only memory
that has not been blurred
or manipulated by my mind.
If you ever want to find me,
go there.


You will see the line of trees that
framed my sunrise
and almost dry riversbeds of
round white stones, where
I slipped once (or more).
You will see the duststorms,
and the heavy rains
I stood in.
You will see the the intersections,
I could never quite cross.
But all this you see,
is not me.



If you want to find the ‘me’,
‘me’ that I do not know of,
that I cannot give you,
go there.
And look for windows I sat by.
Look for the cold floor I lied on.
Sit there and think of a girl
who never felt quite like a person,
who could look at what lay ahead
and know
that neither the path, nor the journey was hers.
Who only wanted a room flooded with
gentle light of drowning sun,
and songs that could make her sadness beautiful.
312 · May 2018
Moment of Contentment
Nayana Nair May 2018
For me, every moment of contentment
is often followed by the realization
of having a lack of either ambition
or the means or ability to achieve it.
And though I can live with the lack of both.
I often wonder
why do we feel the need to be validated
by some measure,
by some reason,
to belong in one of the circles
that the world is divided into.
When we end up questioning our self,
“Who would be actually there for me
if not for the pieces of me
that I am feeding them everyday?”
309 · Apr 2018
Not There
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
Stay right beside me.
Stay till I fall asleep.
Once my eyes have given up,
on seeing the world for what it is
and failing each time.
When my hold on your fingers
loosens breath by breath.
When I finally fall asleep.
Let me dream of a love for us
that hurts little less.
Live the life that I dream of.
Even if I am not there.
308 · Mar 2018
Must Run
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I knew in that moment
that I must run out into the darkness
and find a way
that even the streetlights avoid.
Find a place with no roads
where flowers of new season
will hide my unsure steps.
I knew I had to run away
Or I will never be the same.
So that I don’t loose everything
I (almost) have.
I must run back to that house in wilderness
that I left behind,
to the life I left behind.
So that there are no more graves
of my loved ones
with my name as the murderer engraved.
306 · Apr 2019
Your Skin, My Words
Nayana Nair Apr 2019
I took my rusted pen, my useless words
and tried to write something beautiful for you.
Words filled with my love,
words that tasted
like all your favorite forgotten dreams.
But I found myself tracing
the only words on your skin.
I ended up rewriting your sorrow.
I ended becoming the face of your fears.
300 · Jul 2018
The Cold Returns
Nayana Nair Jul 2018
The steps I walk
and the fate I follow
all run into faces that somehow
already know all the reason to despise me.
Why is it that walking in these shadows
calms my heart and brings it pain
at the same time.
Is this how life is to be lived?
I myself this all the time.
For if not for my own voice,
there won’t be any answers returning to me
from this world that seems more far away
when I look for answers,
than when I look for places hide.

But I look at the moon today with a new eyes.
I find I am no longer alone,
when you look back everytime you leave.
I find I am no longer alone,
when left to myself, I have someone else to think of.
I no longer need assurances and promises
from this life, if only you walk this earth
with a smile and a lighter heart.
The cold returns to my heart again,
freezing your memories forever in me,
and I smile.
I am no longer alone,
nor are you.
299 · Jan 2018
Spring
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
I make some space on my cluttered desk
for my head to rest its worries.
And I find a string of light
as a keepsake
to take with me when I’m buried.
What else am I going to miss?
There are so many things I miss in life already.
But I can’t make my heart strong enough
to reach out to a life
that I have lived without.
I can’t make myself
go out of this room
open the door to see
the spring that I always dreamt of,
the spring that waits for me outside.
297 · Mar 2018
Spots of Moon
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I want to slip into the spots of the moon
that you look at so fondly
on the nights that you are about to break.
295 · Apr 2018
Flower
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
I pluck one leaf at a time
from this flower, this script
my life is.
I throw them from bridges
on cold evenings.
I bury them in the soil
that soils their print with time.
I burn them to ashes,
so they won’t smell the same.
I hang them on trees
that will never bear fruits.
To leave this story of mine
everywhere and nowhere.
So that you may find it.
So that you may not find it.
But
I wear the last page, last leaf
with only one word, you name, written,
on my finger
as substitute for you hands
that I can no longer hold.
295 · Jan 2018
Burn the Flowers
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
Your severe gaze
resounds and echoes
the meanness only humans have.
But your hands melt at anything you touch
so that nothing,
even water,
is disturbed by your presence
in this world.
How did you learn
make that face
that kept people at distance
and kept them on their toes.
How hard was it
roam in this world (that you loved too much)
knowing everything would hurt you,
and knowing the defeat at the face of the war
that you never wanted
and you can never win.
How hard is it,
to burn the flowers
born out of your soul
only so people would
avoid the impending disaster
that you are not.
If you liked this poem, please support it on
http://spillwords.com/burn-the-flowers/

This is the first time my submission is got published online. I would be thankful for your support.
294 · Apr 2018
Sidestep
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.
290 · Mar 2018
Weather
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
There are footsteps
drawn in rainwater
that float on the floor
that was once firm and solid
but now cracks under my every step.
The rain and storm
must have brought him here.
The never improving
weather of his heart.
Did he find what he came for?
How long he must have stood here?
Was it still raining when he left?
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