I lie awake having conversations in my head that will never happen
Weeks of practice - winning the most absurd arguments
About how much better old cartoons are compared to new ones
About what I would say if I was ever in a rap battle
About why I care about you so much
About when I will next make you laugh
About how I can't say any of this

You asked about my past, asking about the 'real me'
Beyond the security blanket called humor I drape myself in
And I wanted so badly to tell you my story
I'd practiced every tangent it could have taken
We stood, however briefly, before the abyss of admission
It dared me to leap and I laughed

For it was, of all things, the fear of getting ahead of myself that kept me from moving
Do not confuse the adrenaline of the jump with that of the quickened heart of unspoken love
Do not wield your words like cannons ready to fire at the first opportunity
Remember, that is the lesson you have learned

You asked about my past
I said, "Yes. I have known heartbreak, loneliness and loss, but I will do everything that I can so you do not."
And it was the truth
Well, the most important one

The saying goes: airports and funerals see the saddest people
The saddest people are those at Walmart at midnight
Dressed in the lazy pajamas of tomorrow morning
And baggy eyed in the missed responsibilities of today
Being at Walmart at midnight is like going to church on Tuesday
Your timing was a little off, but at least you tried
Aisles full of 'clearances' and 'don't look at me's'
(but also please acknowledge my existence)
And then I realize that I am at Walmart at midnight
I am sad. But I am not cat-food-road-map-cart sad
So, I got that going for me

When I caught the sunset yesterday
I thought of you,
Smiling at the smeared horizon,
How magnificently you would wear its hues.

You came to mind when it rained
On Tuesday, as I sprinted to take shelter
Under the awning of a flower shop.

Winter is long gone, and yet
Ever morning, I wake up to a cold bed.
Residues of hungry dreams remain
Etched on my skin.

Hot coffee, warm cinnamon rolls,
Even the smell of fresh laundry
Rouses a repressed memory –
Everything brings me back to you.

Fresh dough, sauce, and melted cheese,
plus wholesome veggies,
add tender succulent meat,
baked to perfection.
Breathe it in before
you dig in.
Drool!

Think I'm bulletproof
A thick skin and paper heart
But, I'm the reverse

मसला मैं, जवाब तुम
प्यास मैं, शराब तुम

लफ़्ज़ मैं, ज़बाँ तुम
काग़ज़ मैं, किताब तुम

मैं पानी, तुम दरिया
मैं  तरतीब, बेहिसाब तुम

Feed me a story –
I feel hollow
listening to the wind
work itself to a storm.

While we wait for the rain,
spin me one of your tales;
something wholesome,
with sweetness that will linger.

Soothing clichés
to slake my restive mind.
Although your voice is solace enough.

I have so much to say to you
but I haven’t yet 
mastered the skill
to undress my convoluted thoughts
to their bare essence.

So tonight,
under the swollen sky,
talk to me
about anything,
and everything –
keep me company.