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 Feb 2018 Farooq Ansari
Aditi
The rustling of autumn leaves, the snow dissipating in your palm, the fluttering beats of your heart as he comes close, a hundred Tsunamis clashing in your stomach as he whispers your name and kisses you soft. The first time you realised you were in love.

The faint humming of windchimes, the echoes of the winds amongst the mountain top, the homely smell of your favourite dish, the Handwritten love notes that are never exchanged, the subtle glances, his breath fogging up your spectacles. the feeling of invinciblity. The first time you ever believed.


The rush shimmering down to something warm, something more permanent, like the gentle embrace of your bed after a long way back home, like the  quiet after a chaotic stormy night, the steady way your hand finds his as if out of habit, the ease at which his name rolls of your tongue, all your favourite poetry books piled up on his table, late diary entries with half the words crossed out, mornings with his favorite chocolate shake alongside your espresso. The feeling that nothing could ever go wrong.

The arriving rustle of thunderstorms, the sea wrecking the sand castles we made with so much love, the rain pounding on my window, the shattering sound of glasswares that only I could hear. The first time I realised love was not always beautiful.

Abandoned buildings standing tall, an unplanned nap in wintery afternoon under the sun, the waning of flood slowly from your heart, the first intake of air after you make it to the surface, the sun fighting through the darkness every dawn. Love is not perfect but it will do.

The last murmured I love you before you fall asleep, dust particles dancing to the beat of sunlight, short pecks on cheeks, every thing frighteningly falling into a routine, fingers in my hair unknotting my stress, a comfort so overwhelming it shadows the love we felt, eye contacts and a sudden coming undone, naked souls stripped off all layers like the first time, unravelled by just one gaze. The first time I understood love is both- the grand confessions and the simple act of being there, and neither and so much more, all at the same time.


Spirited laughter playing in the background, the walls full of memories in frame, the breeze slowly singling lullabies, the fading music after the song has ended, a reminiscence of something so old you can't tell if it's a dream, sunlight dancing on the leaves. A book in my lap with you next to me. I still have not figured life out but with you I can finally live it.

Instead of watching the seasons change from behind my window sill, I feel it change within me.
 Feb 2018 Farooq Ansari
Aditi
I have these abandoned cities inside of me,
Named on the people that once used to love me.
All the roads and the towers are devoid of company-
No one there remembers my face.


So, pls, understand how hard it is for me to answer your trivial "tell me more about yourself"



I have been held before by a gaze as soft as yours,
He is a stranger now, like you'll be too.
I have been desired to stay, and been pleaded to go-
Both at once.

So, pls, understand if I tune you out sometimes and go whichever way the wind blows.


I have my hands stained in the color of ink,
All these sadness and I don't know what to do with it
I have been both- a sad girl and sadness wearing the face of a girl,
You pick whoever you like more.

But, pls, understand if I can't exactly tell who I'm and what is it that I want.

I have been seen - either on the edge; wary of the fall,
Or playing in the deep end, till I go blue in the face.
Adrenaline is who I court, but I'm married to the caution
Till sadness comes to take its claim, and his I become.

So, pls, understand if most of the times my eyes have layers upon layers of emotions, but my face is blank.

I have made words my eulogy, eulogy my beginnings.
I have so many stories to tell, but they demand to be left alone so stubbornly.
So quiet and out of place, like the last ray of sun in a twilight sky- I stay still to breathe.

So, pls, try to understand this is not poetry but just an attempt to understand my own self?
Feedbacks needed
 Feb 2018 Farooq Ansari
Aditi
Go on.
 Feb 2018 Farooq Ansari
Aditi
I smiled, I bled,
I carried on and on for you
I crawled, I fell
I got up, bruised and blue, for you
Even though I don't know how,
Now,
But I stayed for you.

You stayed, you ran
You carried on and on for you
You cheated, you lied
There was always something else and someone else you'd rather do
Even though i don't know why,
Now
But you did it for you.

You confessed, you sinned,
So many versions of truth,
I did not know what to believe in,
But I believed in you.
I raged on, I waned,
So many goodbyes
I could not fulfil,
But you showed me how to
And you did it for you.

So, just go.
With your hurried goodbyes
And hesitated hellos.

So, just go.
My love will continue
to Bloom.

The sadness that became a part of our love,
Take it with you too.

And just go.

I will smile, I will bleed
I will carry on and on
For myself.

I will love, carve poems out of
another person's name.
Even though I don't know how,
Now.

So, I will just go now,
go
On and on.
 Feb 2018 Farooq Ansari
Aditi
Give me a dream
or two
anything that makes me
wanna wake up.
Reality has left
a bitter taste on my tongue.
no plans, promises,
or prefixes.
take my hand,
and take me away with you.

Give me a dream
Or two.


I have laid for decades, now
on the ocean bed,
a distant looker,
not caring to participate.
be the stronger undercurrent,
carry my hurt away on your
shoulder blades.
I'll take my responsibilities,
I'll thank you with my last breath.


It was a deep cut,
the blow too close to the lungs,
but it will heal,
if you only could give me
a dream or two,
to make the healing worth it.
to try to want to fight
the ghost of who I used to be.

Give me a dream
or two,
and wait
while i turn them into reality.


I was a wild thing too, you know,
till I was tamed, Broken,
moulded,
out of convenience.
I can always shed this skin,
and begin again,
but I dare not,
trod my heart,
for the grief that might follow.
the shell might not let the light in,
but it sure keeps the memories out.

Give me a dream
or two,
so I can replace
all the unwritten past tragedies,
with a hopeful draft
of future.

Give me a dream or two.
Just for once give me a reason to get out of my bed.

— The End —