We may have crossed the same paths and walked on the same parks. We may have eaten on the same restaurants or probably have used the same coffee cups

There might even a moment that we’re on the same place or maybe some million worlds apart. And probably I have sat behind you on a bus, but we don’t even know each other yet

And maybe, at some point of our lives, you were so happily in love with your partner. While I am crying over a spilled milk and my messed up life. And you, living a life full of laughter

To my future love, I wanted to tell you so many things. But for now, let us bide one’s time

Let us make the most of this moment, make mistakes and learn from it. Let us love and get hurt so by the time we meet, we are mature enough to handle our relationship

My future love, I am on my way. I may be a bit late, but please be patient. I waited for you for like a lifetime, promise you, I’ll be there on the right time

Until then, please think of me and I’ll dream of you. And one day, the stars will align to spell out our names. Our hearts will beat in synchrony and finally we will realize we have known each other all along

I wore your coat today
It gives me the illusion
that we are more
than just abusers
It wasn't until now that I realized
affection isn't the same as love
I've adapted as a user
so I could be a player in their game
Trading cannabis for kisses
to deprived my body of its senses
Everything I touch feels fuzzy and dull
None of this can be real
I keep my eyes closed
as I am dragged down
in a haze of pleasure
I let you move me to your desire
To have someone take control over me
brought relief over my chest
I felt useful for there was no time
to over think our motives
Please take me in
I'll let you have all of me
Show me what's it like to be loved
I can't tell the difference anymore
I know what's happening
but I don't want it to stop
Cause I am not here
My body may be on the bed
but my mind is somewhere else
I flinch at the touch of your lips smothering me
They are different from his
You brush over my scars like they were nothing
like they weren't some hellish thing I endure
I have no response for the selfish suggestions
you whisper in my ear
Cause I'm tried and we both
just want our fix
I could feel the hunger in your grip tighten
reluctant to stop
You never asked
but I didn't say no either
cause affection makes us feel loved
even if we aren't

Do you remember the questions
you used to ask about dying?
About grief and then pain
that wash over you in freezing pales of regret?
Are you supposed to remember every minuscule detail
before you completely forget?

You choke on your own verses
to convince yourself
and then everyone else
about acceptance--
the magic that should lead to recovery
yet, knowing that
most poems
are just lengthy epitaphs
for all the people
we refuse to bury alive;
that most poets die
as they try to relive
faded images,
wishing they could
turn back time.

There is love in lamentation--
in how the living die with the dead;
how years of November air
become the oxygen
that slowly suffocates them,
how the things they love most
create consuming black holes
they still succumb to
long after
their beloved's faux passing.

Paint me.

Add color onto my purity.

Sacrifice your clean brush,
for an angry stroke of red.

Let the colors define your emotions.

Paint a strong current of blue to show me,
just how sad you really are.

Let the colors define you.

Let a little green in,
portray your caring heart.

Let me in.

Add a tinge of yellow around the corners,
holding onto that thin line of faith you still have.

Let go of yourself, artist.

Stipple white gently,
and match me.

Let everything you hold be free.

But remember to avoid black,
for it destroys a perfect painting.

But if you must,
then add black,

and destroy me.

"Not too long to go now," your bones squeak,
Your feet has seen things, your eyes have travelled far and wide
The promise of a new land
That peeks through the stony shreds
The quiet murmur of freedom the masses dream of,
For justice to finally matter.

And oh, how the heavens creaked open
Illuminating its light on all that is holy
'This land is rightfully ours and it shall be with the rightful owner' you demanded ever so gently,
People of the land marching in solidarity on the barren sand cheering,
"We're with you bapaji, never give up!",
And the foot trails you leave behind unshackle history and make new ones
That will be whispered in centuries from now.

The road forks ahead, ever more complicated and rusty,
But you trudge on to not break those hearts
That have taken upon themselves to beat against yours,
Your walking stick stabs the earth as you inch towards the promise behind those walls.

Not too long to go now.

31.3.15
(C) 2015 Shalini Nayar

The wild current flows, stopping for no one,
As I reach out to grasp what was left:
A hint, a memory waving by like deja vu,
Random access memories;
Perhaps I've imagined it all.

Here I am grappling again,
With that titanium door bolted shut,
Safeguarding anything that tries to trespass it;
One word, a grunt, a slight nod, casual shrug
       Indifferent smiles
As you flow over rough and rocky terrains,
Boulders sharpening your edges,
A gaze here and a whimper there,
Your mind jostled, warranting rhymes,
As my heart gets trampled by the one you love.

Lucid dreams morphs into lucid visions,
I try to see what you see through the eyes you possess in the islands of your heartbeats and the crimson nerves coursing through your veins,
Alas the curtains come billowing down shut, "Nothing to see here, go on back home folks" and the circus ends for the night---
           Not till a stubborn tug in the depth of my soul says it deserves
           A slight hope that one day you would weave me unconditionally in your reflections,
           To navigate the mountains together---
But for now, the ringmaster declares the show's over.

My weary heart has seen it all, heard it all, always sleeping with one eye pry open,
The other eye shut in prayer this wouldn't be the norm,
As I hold on tightly to the current, wildly rushing through the fabric of time,
Leaving no traces of faces behind but a faint tapestry of a memory
By the lake, held tight,
Supported by wiry artistry,
Calm on the surface but paddling nervously underneath like those waddling ducks,
Your lips and eyes melting into mine,
Asking me to be yours.

19.2.15
Shalini Nayar
(C) 2015