#nayana
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.
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
all the folded boats
spill out of my empty books.
the trees are on fire again.
my mind is on a another wild chase.
my hands light some more branches.
“the world is too cold for me”,
is all that i can say.
today, i am less sad than yesterday,
which makes everything that much more difficult.
today my sorrows have become facts.
my childhood reduced to folded boats in a trash can.
is there any other way to live than this?
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 12:57 AM UTC
There is something about this life.
This life with you
that makes me feel guilty.
It is the life that I am not supposed to be in.
I feel like I am trespassing
and any moment
someone would catch me
for asking
and taking more than I deserve
for thinking of a possibility of happiness with you.
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
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.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 6:26 AM UTC
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.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 2:47 AM UTC
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.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 5:55 AM UTC
I wish I was empty-handed
at the end of our story.
But I am left with your memory
and anger at myself for
not being enough.
Life would have been easier
without both.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
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.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC
The dust that lay on the page
that I left open long ago
is now a page on it’s own,
with a story its own.
I look at it and read
negligence and loneliness.
I read how things are forgotten
so easily
and how things are treated as things
by people who
live their life accumulating things
and rest half of it
misplacing, destroying,
replacing and forgetting them.
How people are treated on similar lines
but worse.
How we come back to claim our possessions
when they can clearly exist better
without us.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
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.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
The stars that crumbled
at the wind of your wish,
have their light taken say for your sake.
In their dying light they take your name.
Even if the wish comes to life
it is heavy with a sadness, a grief.
For they are just dying breath
with promises to keep.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
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?”
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 2:26 AM UTC
While the world can preach
of greater pain
and complain of shallow hearts
that never look out of themselves.
They never see the the windows of their heart
that were nailed shut
from outside.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 2:12 AM UTC
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.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
There was once a boy
who looked at my freckles
and told me that they were
autumn leaves in winter skies.
That I am a sunset to cherish
and a storm to pet.
Who looked at my words
and told me, that
he could find all the things
he has lost in his life
in my words.
He told me
the day he loses me
he will lose much more than that.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
And here is my contribution to
the map of human unhappiness.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
As I purse my lips,
trying to push back words
that I am afraid are the wrong ones.
I wonder,
stand in awe,
of those gentle souls
who heal so many hearts.
While I fail
to utter any words,
fearing,
not knowing,
what might break them.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 12:57 AM UTC
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.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
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.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 2:47 AM UTC
The trees don’t whisper,
don’t console me with lies
that they have heard too many times.
They tell me that this sorrow won’t go away
atleast not without me.
That there will be days I will look at
the empty chair opposite me
and my coffee would taste of tears.
Days when I would wake up
with a blanket of despair over me.
That I will stop at certain words
and certain names,
and feel too broken in this happy world.
That I would stop taking certain roads.
Stop going to certain places.
So that my ache in my chest
won’t eat me up.
There will be day
when I would have given up
on all that I was.
And sure enough
the sorrow went away,
taking away everything we were.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
There are trails of stardust
that are possibly tears,
frozen in the cold space.
Frozen despite the sun
and thousand other burning stars.
And I am not sure
if they are yours or mine.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 4:09 AM UTC
Our hearts are perpetually
suspended
in a time
that flows around us.
And our ghosts pin us to our sins,
while we yearn to be the person
we were a second ago.
Though our heart are
full of ashes and smoke
of loves we have burned with us.
We still hopelessly wish to be with the one
that we have destroyed.
We live in the distance
that no apologies can cover.
A distance
that many suffer
but only few endure.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
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.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
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.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
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.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC