A Text Message

 

There is no one around me

Solitude extends its hand out

But I’d rather be comforted

By a cold metal body.

(Or is it plastic?)

Silence wants to converse with me

But I’d rather hear the occasional “ting”

The wind ruffles my hair

The sun shines on my lips

As they curve into a smile

At the glow of its screen

But I’d rather feel the warmth

That traveled five hundred miles

To radiate from its cold metal body

(I definitely think it’s plastic.)

For a text message, is all a man can be

To a world, who doesn’t want to see.

 

 

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I Lost You

 

I lost you
Bit by bit
One folly at a time
And with each tear that followed.

I lost you
A little every month
December, May & October
April and again in December

I lost you
Like one loses time
One moment culminating into another
Until one is not left with any more.

I lost you
Like one loses precious hair
Every single day
But thinks it’s okay.

I lost you
Memory by memory
Or may be all at once
You just hid it very well.

I lost you
Or did I?
May be it was you who lost
While I, just loved.

I remember…

I remember when you stopped being there for me. Just like all those times when you were. I am not biased. I am not unfair. I am just. I remember your presence and absence alike. But you were there for me when I could have done without you. And you decided to stop, when I needed you the most. May be, you thought you’ve been for me enough. May be, you thought it was time for me to grow on my own, to have my thoughts reverberate in my chaotic mind instead of sharing them with you, to have my broken heart crushed further and mold it into something else, to take control of my life. All. On. My. Own.

Or may be, I am being too optimistic about you. May be, you were simply not there for me.

I remember crying into the night, as the pillow absorbed my loud screams. I remember going numb and staring into nothingness. On some days, that, would be the most peaceful moment.

I remember creating walls, strong enough to shut people out. I remember creating walls, weak enough for you to walk right back in.

I remember wanting to forget things, to forget you. I remember failing miserably. Over and over again. I remember learning to live with it. I remember hoping not to die with it. I remember so many things and nothing at all, all at once.

If only, you too remembered a little something.

If only, you remembered me.

On “Loss”…

It is not always about when you lose something. It’s about when you realize you’ve lost it. And are never going to get it back. It’s hard to tell whether each loss adds a burden to your existence or creates a void within you. May be, both. Who would have thought that voids could make you feel heavy? Ironical.

Sting for Space

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Artwork by: Paula M.

 

I compared our love to steady mountains and perennial brooks.

I thought it was as deep as oceans and Hosseini’s books

As dreamy as the stars, as unique as the moon,

Beautiful like this life and reassuring as “I’ll see you soon”.

But I was wrong, in ways more than one.

For out of these, our love was none.

It wasn’t as mighty or poetic or eternal as I thought it to be.

But just like a stack of movies overcrowding internal disks D and E.

Collected and preserved with a promise to savor

But a new movie allegedly receiving the favor

Never deleting them, just not letting them go

But to make way, Honey, I’ve got to clear the snow!

So I ripped off the Band-Aid; Quick and Painless.

LOL. Just quick, I was kidding about the “painless”.

Exchange the sting for space, and you’ve got a heavenly deal!

For the world is way too much to fit in our tiny ordeal.

If Only…

He: So, this is it?
She: If you need to ask me, it isn’t.
He reached for her hair and kissed her like it was their last, hoping that it wasn’t.
He: You’ll find someone who loves you more than I ever did.
She: If only, it was enough. If only, being loved meant everything. If only, being someone’s only reason for happiness meant ecstasy. If only, being someone’s life made life worthwhile. If only, having someone meant being someone’s. If only.
He: Then what matters?
She: Bringing out the crazy in someone. You’re my ‘crazy’. No one will ever be.
He: I will miss you.
She: I wish you didn’t have to.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She watched him walk out the door. If only, he walked out her heart. If only.

 

On “Possession”

To possess is someone is to love, so deep, that it pierces your soul and is capable of carving it into something beautiful or something horrifying. It is to embody oneself in the other; to merge your pains, your sorrows, your disappointments and your happiness with that of the other. It is like standing on the edge of a cliff. To possess is to surrender. And so is being possessed. It is the state of utter vulnerability that results out of absolute trust. It is the courage to surrender one’s dreams, hopes and aspirations at one’s feet and at the same time, being absolutely sure, that the latter would worship all of it. Possession is scary. But Possession is erotic. Possession is, unearthly.