Doughnuts and Dilemmas

FUCK YOU

2012-02-24T15:51:00.002+05:30

Those butterflies in my stomach
metamorphed
into bitterlies that burnt my chest

You started to make me weak.
And it would have been a good thing if it was only on my knees.

You protected me from your world
hid me behind black curtains
so that I wouldn't bite and bark at your people
who thought I was a monster but even cute little witches
become
bitches
when tied to a leash.

So
FUCK YOU
maybe this will melt your heart
since I love you didn't
FUCK YOU
because I was only asking more love
not your heart or your soul
So
FUCK YOU
just because.

Please.

2012-02-14T16:52:00.001+05:30

If you really care about your children, stop having them.

How do you Feel Today?

2012-02-13T18:01:00.001+05:30

Cold and lonely and poetry-less.

Because you don't know how it feels

2012-02-12T11:27:00.002+05:30

Why don't you,
sometimes,

learn to blame yourself

and your doings or undoings

instead of my bleeding vagina?

My demands for the day

2012-02-07T16:31:00.000+05:30

1. Kwiks Cheese Balls
2. Chocolate Cake
3. More Kwiks Cheese Balls
4. Hug(s)
5. Lullabies to put me to sleep
6. Lullabies that will wake me up, feeling loved
7. Coffee with Chocolate Cake
8. Earphones
9. Someone who can love me unconditionally despite the bitch that I am being today
10. All of the above.

My Wing of Madness

2012-02-07T13:07:00.000+05:30

"Why do you want to die?"
"Because I do not want to live anymore."
"Why don't you want to live anymore?"
"Because I want to die."

Susheela Raman

2012-02-02T15:37:00.001+05:30

Her voice
drifts me.....
back to the afternoons and evenings
spent in that charming little shop
from where she soothed and seduced
passersby.

Her voice
was a background sound
for our conversations, quarrels and silences.

Her voice means more to me today
as she sings with a sweet accent

in a language I half understand
exuding a sort of peaceful piercing pain through her voice,
which I can almost fully comprehend.

Ghungate ke pate khola re tohe piya milenge...she sings
leaving me with an yearing to discover the story
in the song...
and perhaps...
for those evenings and afternoons
at that shop in Thamel,
where I first heard her.

Ghungate ke pate khola re tohe piya milenge...

At times I think,

2012-01-19T17:33:00.000+05:30

If there is a god,
he must be a man
because he's rarely been there
when I really needed him
and that is so like what a man is good at doing-
not being there.

Ocean apart

2012-01-18T13:29:00.000+05:30

Between the things you say
and
the things you do-
There's an ocean
and you don't know how to swim.

Our Love is War

2012-01-04T18:24:00.000+05:30

We exist
to destroy each other.

We are enemies
in love
waiting
to be killed.

Our love
a sure dangerous game
our love
a duel to death.

Only here,
the last one standing
will be the loser.

Numbered

2012-01-03T15:15:00.001+05:30

I had never fallen in love with numbers
until

Last April
when I learned to count
-the days that we spent together
scribbled on walls
for everyone to forever see.

Those numbers became an obsession
Like new found lovers often tend to do.

Then,
numbers increased,
the stories piled up,
our typewriters ran out of ink
(or that is at least what I would like to think).

I am learning to un-count now,
because abandoned for too long
these walls are too rigid for encryption.

So we nail our memories to our heart
we do not tell our stories
we live them each day
and let them rot within
so that they can kill us tomorrow.

Friends

2011-12-27T17:22:00.001+05:30

To that person who knew every atom of me
and loved me unconditionally for who i was.

To the girl who has not always danced in the rain with me,
but has always shared the umbrella when i needed one.

To my almost neighbour and best friend with whom i've done the most outragoeus things and had the most interesting conversations with.

To the pair that have always helped me,
And followed through my drama.

To the ginger tea and parathas that are always comforting.

To the one with magic tricks that can make me laugh without hold.

To her who is so drastically different than i, and yet can manage to strike similar chords with me.

To my curly-haired winter romance, best friend with half a glove and the giver of perfect hugs.

To my admiration in orange, my similar opposite and a lovely friend,

To the one who opens her own doors and pays half the bill and has inspired me so,

To my three most lovely 'old' friends at work,
who are my guiding lights in disguise,

To zinta and sparrow and her best friend by default.

To the one whose voice readily saves me no matter what time at night, and he who can 'sense' my sadness all the time.

To the friend i've spent turtle moments with.

To that person who promises to follow me into the dark and for whom i have to find more than words to say.

To people i no longer know how to make conversations with
but who have been shades of color in my life.

To all those who accept me
And love me for everything i am,

Happy friendship day!

(Written on August 2011)

Listening to the heart

2011-12-27T17:21:00.002+05:30

Convinced,
my heart woke me up from a dream
and said,
"Let friendship cradle this feeling
that hasn't been (and won't ever be?) fully embraced.

Some times,
you do not need more than what you have,
(or what you think you do).
This more is an open ended abyss of demands,
of more mores that will never get fulfilled.

Most of the times,
you do not get what you want.
But you'll survive,
because you've already learnt to extinguish fires without water.
You are a fighter.

At times,
It is wise to not step on less to reach for more
because when you relapse,
less might be too broken to contain you.
There are times when,
we don't need to take the step."

This time,
convinced,
i listened to my heart.

Take it all, A

2011-12-27T17:15:00.000+05:30

Dear A,

I lost to you in a battle
you never knew we were fighting.
So please come back to
claim what was always yours.

I am walking away,
with my head held high.

The Liebster Blog Award

2011-12-27T14:51:00.002+05:30

Was awarded the Liebster Blog Award by Kanchan di and so I am following the tradition of what I am supposed to do after being awarded :)

Thank you Kanchan di, for the Award. It made my day to know that you like and read my poems. I love your blog posts and your poems and I wish you wrote poetry more often!

“Liebster is a German word meaning dearest.” (or so I found out from Kanchan di's blog)

If you receive the award, you should:

1. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.
2. Reveal your top five picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
4. Hope that the people you’ve sent the award to forward it to their five favourite bloggers and keep it going!

My Top Five Picks.

1. A Room of One's Own. I know her through her words and poems. This is where I get my inspiration from. Every time I fall out of poetry, I go to find it back in her poems. She told me once 'You find poetry in the most unexpected places, just like love.' and I have found this to be very true.

2. Tinydancer. Amazing. She says whatever is going on inside my heart, most of the time, but does it ten thousand times better. I hope one day I learn her way with words.

3. Absence of Answer. poetic prose. poetry. photography. Awe-inspiring. Her blog is everything she is. I am glad I met her and her blog.

4. With Love, from Ktm. Entertainment to the max. I learn a lot of things from her blog. From art to fashion to poetry to reviews about Kollywood movies - the blog talks about it all, that too very sincerely.

5. Instantly Noodles. Humorous. I love going through his posts. Love his wit and sense of humor.

A Shade Apart

2011-12-25T12:15:00.001+05:30

She forgot her lipstick on the dressing table.

No, I do not wear pink shades.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

2011-12-21T14:21:00.000+05:30

I am not what you think I am
this crazy, jealous, needy, crying crazy, spiteful, angry, neurotic, disgustingly different, helpless, ugly
woman
who talks crazy, jealous, needy, crying crazy, spiteful, angry, neurotic, disgustingly different, helpless, ugly
shit

But maybe you do not even think of me like that.

I have been standing in front of this mirror
with you behind me
your arms around me
thinking you've been looking at the same faulty reflection
while all you have been doing is looking at me.

Hmmm.
Maybe, that's why you still hold on to me tight.

The Policemen

2011-12-21T13:02:00.002+05:30

They stopped me
mid-way
and checked my bag.

They found my God
and smirked-
'Why do you carry it around?'

They scavenged deeper
and found a packet of condoms
and laughed-
'You look too innocent to be a whore.'

They handcuffed me,
dragged me inside the jeep.
I thought I wouldn't argue,
Would go where they would take me
I would answer their questions and they would set me
free.

But they had no questions for me.

Did I scream?
I don't know.
Did I cry?
I think so.

All I remember is them throwing me out of the jeep
as one came near to me
and said,
'And now we have forgiven all your crimes
and now you are no longer charged guilty.'

Responsible

2011-12-18T15:26:00.000+05:30

No one is responsible for anyone else
Only I am responsible for me
But all of you are responsible for where I am
or I am not gonna be!

I won't tell Mom

2011-12-14T17:40:00.005+05:30

I was too clumsy, couldn't hide them well
you were too mother-like to not notice,
you saw my scars

and cried
that I no longer share my woes with you.
I sat there lips sewn.
You begged,
I fell off the scooter, I said.
I fell off the scooter, I insisted.
You left
because you knew you couldn't get another word out of me.

But I am sorry, Mom.
I am sorry
I do not share anymore
I do not know how to tell you about my wounds
or what to tell you about the one who gives them to me
except that, I love him. A lot.
I am alright, Mom, don't worry.
These are just the scars on the skin

I do not know what you'd say to me,
if you saw the ones within.

Magical Mist

2011-12-13T14:55:00.002+05:30

On the sand,
that stays still when you move,
sit without fidgeting
the thoughts in your head,
the beats of your heart.

Notice
only the rapid river
streaming down
and up,
above,
the hills.

Nature made miraculous hills
like he made the body of women
curved in all the right places.

But he made even more miraculous mist
descending slowly
engulfing
spreading,
the smoke
like this smoke in my hills
gradually moving faster,
descending on me
but taking me
higher.

This poem is not about you.

2011-12-13T14:35:00.002+05:30

This poem is not about you.

It not about how you just say things

because they do not hurt your tongue.

Or about your lies
and your I love yous
Or about your truths
and your I don't need yous
Or about those moments
when you are totally in love with me
and you want me and you need me
and you do not want to lose me
Or about those moments opposite
when you think about only yourself
and call me selfish.
Its not about the hurt you gave me
and the heart I sold to you

Not about the dreams we built,
the stories we wrote
the world we said was ours
or the colors we said we'd paint inside them.

Its not about the rainbows or the rain
not about the sunshine or the storm
not about promises that were broken
or the nevers and the forevers.

No,this poem is not about you.

It is about me
not settling for your bullshit
It is about me
showing 'love' the finger and walking away.

Pain

2011-12-13T13:22:00.000+05:30

Pain is addictive.
Who knows this better than you
better than me

While you cut yourself
and watch the blood that oozes out of your body
I search for parts of you
and your speech
that will not cut me.

You bathe in blood
I let it clot inside me.

For you
the blade
the blood
you can never have enough of.
The thrill of the pain
stinging pain
blurring pain
'purifying' pain.

For me
you.

Pain is addictive.
Who knows this better than you
better than me?

I forget,

2011-12-06T18:01:00.001+05:30

that when you cannot love yourself, no one can love you either.

Thank you for reminding me.

When me drives you crazy

2011-12-06T17:48:00.000+05:30

Dear Me,
Who made you believe that you are inferior?
That with a flip of that omelete in the pan
his heart would flip back to her?
Why are you after her?
Why do you think she is after you?
Why do you think he is after her?
Why is there even a her, or hers, in a world in which he said
there was him
and there was you
and there was a white canvas wrapped around
and there was a paintbrush in both of your hands
and that together you and him would paint the world with colors both of you imagined?

What is it that you want to believe?
That he loves you?
Or that he lies to you?

Me,
shutup, please!
Why am I even listening to you,me?
Are you real or am I?
Did I make me up inside my head or did I make I inside in my head?
Answer me!
Am I me?
I am I.
I do not want to be me.
I want to be I.
I am I,
I am I,
I am I.
I am, I.

Questions

2011-12-06T17:35:00.000+05:30

I make up questions
and try to find their answers, myself
I do not ask you
because I know I will question the answer you give me
and end up with more questions to find answers to
not knowing why I asked those questions in the first place
or why situations were built in a way for the questions to arise.
I know you will not like these questions
so I speak them in my mind
and bring out competent candidates who can find me the answer,
or rather the answer I want to hear.
Only, I do not know what that answer is
and maybe I do not want to know what that answer should be.

Questions on Questions
and questions on answers,
this never ending quest,
will it end?

You'd do me no Harm

2011-12-05T16:33:00.002+05:30

Ujjwala (a friend and a fellow slam poet from Word Warriors) and I wrote and performed this poem at an event campaigning against Burn Violence on Women. We focused on domestic violence on the whole and came up with this. She and I have very different styles of writing and performing and though we were apprehensive about how it would sound, it went pretty well :).

You'd do me no Harm.

Last night you came to me, drunk,
and said, “Where’ve I hit you?”

With your words? I said,
In places that know no healing.
With your hands and feet and whip and stick,
in places so sore they’ve stopped bleeding.

So used to your fists,
I flinched when you held my hand
but I let you.

So used to your foul mouth,
I broke down when you kissed me
but I let you.

I took what you gave me and called it
love.
I caged myself and called that
protection.
I survived with my silence and called that
acceptance.
Because, that is what They taught me.
They said to me,
embrace the fist because that fist opens up to bring you bun on the table,
choke on the grip, for a while, but recover without a cough because,
that’s the grip that will loosen up to shield you.

Give in, give in, give in
because that is what you body does.
Woman, spread your legs
not your wings
scream and plead
don’t speak and stand
caress the hand that slapped you
beat you
thrashed you
break down in the arms that strangled you
because that man, that hand, that arm
Will protect you from harm.
They said,
You’d do me no harm.
You said, you’d do me no harm.

You said, you’d do me no harm
so nevermind my broken arm, you’d do me no harm.
You said, you’d do me no harm
so I won’t ring the alarm, you’d do me no harm.

You said you’d do me no harm
But that’s all that you’ve done

Is it that easy to forget
What you said just last night
When you scanned through my body
For the marks you’d made on it
In that darkness, didn’t I hear you say you were sorry
That you loved me and you’d bring all this to an end
But then
Again
It rains
Your hard-knuckled fists pounding down on my brains
Pouring every bit of mad rage that runs in your veins
Monster, you’re anger is never appeased
You could cut me to pieces and still not be pleased
And no matter where I run, you’ll still hunt me down
Cause you love me, you need me, you’d do me no harm

By the way, Hey “They”
You see all this, right?
So why don’t you say a thing and keep this eerie quiet?
Cause while of all the times you choose Now
To hold your ever-flapping tongue
This man, this hand, this arm –will only learn to do me more harm

And you, what was my fault
Remind me again
Why I deserve all this beating
This torture and pain
What? I put too much or too little sweet in your tea
Was I out for ten seconds more than the magnanimous ten minutes you’d lend me?
Oh was I out being the whore you’d made up in your head
Or was it simply a mistake to wake up from that bed
To see yet another day

You knew one of these days
I’d see the marvel that’s me
Who’s not as weak or as feeble
As she’s made to believe
And while you’ve always measured your strength with your hard-hitting punches
I long far surpassed yours with my – endurance

But no more
I’m done being the victim
I’m done with this chase
I’ll no longer run
But stand up to your face
And may be I’ve just caught a bit of your insanity
Cause I now know for sure, You will do me no harm

I said, you will do me no harm

Lay down your (fuckin) arms; you will do me no harm

I said, you will do me no harm
Go ring your alarms Hun; you will do me no harm
I said, you will do me no harm
Cause that’s all that you’ve done
And you’ve done just enough.

This "Man's" World

2011-12-03T16:05:00.002+05:30

They said,
Woman, spread you legs
not your wings.

A hungry monster is an angry monster

2011-11-21T16:59:00.001+05:30

You promised me food and brought me hunger.

It burnt in my stomach like anger,
hit me right in the middle of my head
until I couldn't close my eyes because
a fountain of flaming fury would have burst out instead.

Acidic, it put my world on fire
and made me want to tap my feet until there were holes in the ceiling,
due to the rage beneath.
It made me spit spite
and I choked on curses which I did not want to bring out.

Engulfing the empty space,
and marking its empty presence,
it poked the sleeping monster inside me.
The monster now hungry and angry
scratched its cage until my flesh bled
and because I couldn't let it come out,
I had to feed myself to it, instead.

So next time, please just bring me the fucking food you promised.

Dead or Alive

2011-11-20T17:43:00.005+05:30

Sometimes I think you wouldn't know whether I was dead or alive.

And that's okay with me.

At other times I think you wouldn't care.

This is when it starts getting harder to breathe.

For Endings

2011-11-20T11:22:00.000+05:30

All
good
things
come
to
an
end.

So do some bad things.

This and we are in-between.

Block or Whatever

2011-11-13T17:20:00.000+05:30

I think I left my muse on your bed-side table.

FYI

2011-10-24T17:28:00.000+05:30

This time when I leave, I will burn all the bridges.

Superman

2011-10-19T14:04:00.001+05:30

Seven people jumped off a building,
yesterday night,
and you caught them,
one
by
one.
Carried them in your arms
and flew them off their colossal towers of chaos and grief.

You were exhausted,
sick and tired of the world
being sick and tired of this world.

She needed her savior again,
but she sensed your weariness
and unwillingness,
you were only human.
She didn't confirm,
nor ask,
she just saw your slightly torn cape.

Tonight,
when she drowned herself in her sorrows,
she put off the siren
and let you sleep.

Daddy

2011-10-19T12:44:00.001+05:30

I thought of you today.

Of how you broke my heart
how I spent days crying
and days trying
not to.

I thought of you today.

Of the chaos you caused,
the mess you left,
the damage you did,
but also the strength it gave me.
Of how you destroyed my future,
but also of how it shaped me.

Yesterday,
you bought me a pair of shoes for the first time in the last sixteen years since I've learnt to walk.
Maybe, that was a way of making it up to me.
So maybe, I should forgive you...

I do not know if I still love you, Daddy
but I do know I do not like you.
I do like these pair of shoes, though.

So yes,
I will forgive you, Daddy,
maybe,
eventually,
some day,
just not today.
Just not yet.

Blue and Black

2011-10-14T15:23:00.000+05:30

The difference between
blue
and
black
is that black is rotten.

Too much of green is black,
too much of greed is black.
Filth is black.

Blue is blue.
Pure, whole, not flawed.

Black is a self-obsessed destruction,
an absence,
an abyss of inadequacies.
Dull.

Blue is the space above which makes your heart
soar,
it is the ocean that pacifies,
washes away the filth.
An ocean of life,
inspiration, life in itself!

Blue is also her eyes.
Mine are black.

The Wait

2011-10-11T16:42:00.001+05:30

Do you want a cup of tea?", the shopkeeper
asked.
I smiled at his generosity,
shook my head, no.

"How far do you come from?" he questioned.
"It's been a long night," I answered,
for I no longer know the place where I come from
anymore.
I come from a mistake,
a series of wrong choices and bad moves, square after square,
I want to say.
But i'm not sure if that is his cup of tea.
So i keep my quiet.

The calm outside the hospital is uneasy-
like its making up for the chaos inside.
There is a pungent smell in the air,
Hospitals.
Or maybe,
it is just my rotten self, stinking.

"Who are you waiting for,
tonight?" he asks again
as I prepare to leave.
And, I am half glad when I say,
"The morning."

Alcohol and I

2011-10-11T16:41:00.001+05:30

He needs alcohol,
The bottle is a part of his body.
He needs alcohol. No questions wanted. No
answers given.

You need alcohol
to tell me you love me.
Because the tipsy guy is the one who is bold,
the sober one?
he wants to be cold.
The tipsy guy, speaks love.
The sober one speaks hurt.

So you need
alcohol for your heart.

I am drinker now.
I need alcohol
to drown me
to blur my senses and make me incapable of
thought.

So I need alcohol
To drink away the pain that you men give me.

The World (thinks it) Knows

2011-10-09T20:51:00.004+05:30

When we kissed in that busy Basantapur street,
did you think the world closed its eyes? Turned away to not look?

When you slipped your arms around mine
in a room populated by people and mirrors,
pulled me closer to whisper in my ears,
did you think the world wasn't listening? That it shut its ears?

The world asks us all the wrong questions
and we give them the right answers.
The world calls us liars,
but only we know our truth.

The world has assumptions,
we have our explanations.
The world
sees the kiss
but not the passion
The world
hears the words
but not their meaning.

The world wants a tag
(and sometimes I echo the world)
The world wants a label,
so today I am saying,
let's undress each other in front of this world
and throw at them,
our clothes.

Curse the rain.

2011-09-27T17:57:00.001+05:30

And when the rain came,
I knew you wouldn't.

2011-09-27T11:41:00.000+05:30

~~Mammy invested on me~~

~~like I was a money-making machine~~

~~Turns out I am rusted~~

~~and now, she doesn't know~~

~~what to do with me.~~

"Go Beg For Someone Else"

2011-09-25T15:32:00.002+05:30

Like I had to feed off your back to survive,

I depended on you.

And when you said "Enough!"
I didn't know how to make sense of that.

When you said enough!

I tugged at your feet,
blocked your way and spread my arms, wailing
waiting for you to drop in few generous words that would reverse the pain.
Out of sheer desperation I begged,
I could feel myself bleeding.
But you yawned and said, "Enough! I am sleeping."
You kicked me and sent me flying
you kept walking and then you said what you shouldn't have
but maybe what you needed to
and I snapped back to my senses.

I picked myself up and dusted
.and hoped you slept well, dreamt sweet

.Because even heart breakers deserve sweet dreams and a good sleep

Maybe, I don't need you.

2011-09-22T14:06:00.001+05:30

At fourteen.
my first heart beat bounced off the walls and echoed
back as my first heart break.
(He liked someone else.)
I survived.

At fifteen,
I had a liking for a lie
which wasn't all that hard to get by.
I survived.

At fifteen and some,
I found poetry in pain
and the 'charmer' that he was,
he sweet talked his way out of my life.
I survived.

At fifteen and some more,
I chased a whim for some time.
And when the fire died,
I survived.

At sixteen,
I hid and I showed,
came back to him and went away,
lingered, moved on and lost. But,
I survived.

At sixteen and six months old,
I loved like never before.
Discovered a wonderful person, a wonderful feeling
for it to only end.
(they say all good things do.)
I hurt, I hurted
I ignored, I cared, I wanted
I accepted, we moved on.
I survived.

And eighteen,
He was a rebound.
And I was a pastime.
He cheated. I got a reason. I disappeared.
I survived.

So at nineteen,
when I have a degree to achieve and my own bills to pay,
no space to breathe, and no time for love,
(and all that comes along),
Maybe, I don't need this.
Maybe, I don't need you.

An Agenda

2011-09-22T13:11:00.001+05:30

All night long,
you wait for a phone call that never came.

The next morning,
you wake up with an agenda
because all night,
with the phone clutched in your hand,
as if it were your own aching heart,
you thought thoughts in between those unconscious episodes of sleep.

You question.
You analyze.
You conclude:

the sky doesn't fetch you a lantern

.on nights when there is no moon

You wonder why,
it is only you that takes the extra step
and then you form an agenda.

The rest of the day,
is a losing battle.
Where you ache,
you block
you resist
and spend all your energy to not
melt.

September

2011-09-12T13:39:00.000+05:30

September smiles in my heart
with your dew drop kisses
that fall on my lips
to make my face
blossom.

Today.

2011-09-06T19:51:00.000+05:30

getting used to not getting used to you.

Falling in Love with a Shark

2011-09-04T16:55:00.002+05:30

Falling in love with a shark
is hard.
His words bite
so deep
the gashes can’t even find enough blood to bleed.
Protected by a layer of its dermal denticles,
he convinces you he is not vulnerable
and maybe he is
not.
He’s as cold as the freshwater he lives in,
he wants you to believe,
so you convince yourself the warmth you feel
when your shivering body comes in touch with his streamlined one,
was just imaginary.

Yes, it was.
Imaginary.

Born a predator,
the shark is good at what it does.
He kills.
He. Moves. On.

You’re now a dead swan
black, with the lack of blood,
you’re a poor little black dead swan
who should have known…

Falling in love with a shark is hard.

A Fool

2011-09-01T13:27:00.003+05:30

Your hands flinch ,
when i reach out for them
 You're fingers easily let
go.

 I don't know where to hide my face
when you look at me like that.
 Or, what that look really means.  

So who are we fooling?
Love? 
When we call ourselves
(or we don't call ourselves)

lovers.

  Who am I fooling?
 When I raise the veil and mistake your love for something else?
Something that you cannot really give me?  

Who are you fooling?
When you say you want what i want?
When you say you want me.
When you say you want this?

 Me.

Nothing

2011-08-31T11:59:00.001+05:30

Nothing has its own existence.

Today, it exists in my chest

as the tightening feeling that is choking me.

It is feeding on my blood

and injecting me with pain.

This pain that is real,

how can it be nothing?

When it is taking its toll on me

and inviting a third world war in my head

and my heart?

A war is never really over
unless the suffering of its victims are,
this pain is never really nothing,

until I am.

On the Ferris Wheel

2011-08-29T15:43:00.001+05:30

Ambiguity
that is what tomorrow is

A blurred photograph,

that's what yesterday was.

You are sitting somewhere in between there with me

on this Ferris wheel of my emotions sitting right next to yours.

Somewhere mid air

I fear I might be losing grip

and the fear is what's getting me dizzy

but you don't notice

as you enjoy your thrill

and I don't bother to tell...

So round and round
the Ferris wheel just keeps on moving

until we have become just two strangers

sharing the ride.

On the blurred photograph that you are now showing your friends,
you,
for a split second think you know that blurred face right next to you
but you blink your eye and then you forget

and the Ferris wheel just keeps on moving...

A, Again.

2011-08-28T17:29:00.000+05:30

This time,

she came to me while you were away.

She sneaked into the restricted lanes of my thoughts

and asked me if I had missed her.

Of course not.

I know he missed me, she said.

I shaked my head vigorously hoping the fierce movement

could produce enough energy to falsify what she had just said.

She laughed again, at me,

like she knew something I didn't.

She laughed at me
because she knew she could,

generate this flame in my heart
that would burn until it turned black and green.

She sat,

staring,

she said I had to live nine lives and nine lies to be what she is

and what she will be ( to him),

that there was no one else like her.

Doesn't he tell you?

I didn't know where to look,
so I followed my eyes to that bar
where she tells me, it all began to never end.

She knows she's already killing me inside
(I don't know if she really does this, or I am making her do it)
but I already feel my self die,
blow myself like a pyromaniac that has nothing left to burn.
I cannot take it anymore,
she challengingly looks me in the eye.

For one brief moment
my eyes burn, like my heart
but that is still not enough.
So I wring the petrol out of her machine
and take it down in a gulp
until I am bloated like a balloon
then I let her laughter be the match stick

that strikes on the coarse surfaces of my self esteem

and then, blow myself
my heart, my soul,my mind
up into shards.

Fever Burning

2011-08-26T15:10:00.000+05:30

I slept with your words

and woke up with a fever burning
at an hour way past midnight.

I shifted sides,

flipped the pillow

but still couldn't leave behind the war-drum beat in my head,

my swollen tongue,

my burning forehead.

I woke up

with your words, again

the fever gone.

just a faint residue of the aching forehead.

that pain left my body

this pain stays

like a fever burning

in my chest.

Write

2011-08-23T14:19:00.000+05:30

Without looking right or left
or thinking whether its right or wrong.
good or bad
exceptional or mediocre.
I wish I could-
Let it scream out of me
and make itself heard,
flow out of my system
like rivers of emotions that flow
upon the breaking of a dam.
Let the poems inside me breathe
break the glass,
open the windows and see the sunshine.

trypophobia

2011-08-20T22:34:00.003+05:30

The holes in my heart-
small, big, drilled with precision
with truths i do not want to accept,
are driving me insane.

Ferociously scratching myself,
fighting the image,
the phobia,
of my holed unwhole heart.

Itch, scratch, bleed,
swell,
cry crazy.
Scratch scratch.

Darn! The holes in my heart!

This time, it's different.

2011-08-17T15:23:00.001+05:30

A pricking pain that spread

across my chest.

Heartaches are real.

It hurt a bit more than I wanted it to
and a little less than I had expected
But it hurt.

That pain is real.

So is rejection.

It is real,

unlike this love
that I think I have for you
that you think you can't reciprocate.

So it is unreal,
because I do not know what to do with it now
and it is unreal
because it is convenient this way.

Numbers

2011-08-16T17:24:00.003+05:30

Numbers that my fingers dial effortlessly. Numbers that i've learnt to say in a certain pattern, the ones i have learnt by heart but now, will no longer lead me to the those voices anymore.

A list of such numbers on my memory and on that of my phone-what am i to do with them now??

Emails from Agam

2011-08-16T12:51:00.001+05:30

Emails from Agam make me smile. And though I have moved on from the aftermath of that little winter romance (or whatever it was), the emails take me back to those safa tempo rides, the walks, the phone calls, the mittens...They dissolve the long gap that we had in between, the episodes of silences during the spring after that winter and even beyond when we stopped talking with each other. That gap feels like it never was there, that I never lost connection with him.

These emails come with second helpings. First, a long email followed quickly by short one liners. I like talking to him this way, in emails rather than on chat conversations or Facebook wall posts or on Skype.I think he opens up so much more in his emails.

Agam has always been about nostalgia - the want to snap back to that phase when we were the best of friends. We are close now but on a different level because so much has happened from the winter of 2008. But things are also good the way there are now.

He has also been all about hugs. Perfect ones. I kinda miss those.

And now, since he is two thousand miles away from me, he is also a lot about his emails. The ones that make me smile. :)

asking too much

2011-08-14T23:31:00.001+05:30

I unfolded my thoughts and laid them out in front of you - flawed thoughts of a flawed heart that is burning with envy. You don't understand why i won't write anymore, why i want to leave it all behind, wake the pyromaniac in me and burn it all and then, burn myself into flames.

But you say, it confuses you. Why do you want to give it up? That's stupid.

I have been trying to explain. And you know that. I sound very jealous, which maybe I am. But that is not the reason why. There is something beyond that which I cannot seem to make you understand. I am scared you're on the verge of flipping your perspective about me.

But, I thought out of all the people maybe you would understand. And accept. Maybe, I am asking too much from you.

No poetry.

2011-08-13T20:53:00.004+05:30

She took from me, my poetry, and now I am nothing.

my baby

2011-08-12T19:12:00.001+05:30

Let me believe that
there is a serpent moving inside my womb.
Licking my walls
with its venomous tongues,
shedding its skin elegantly,
and then chewing on it,
to claim possesion.
It is soon going to slimyly
find its way and crawl
out from between my thighs,
and before i can breathe,
swallow me whole.

Silence.

2011-08-11T11:38:00.001+05:30

This silence

that has taken birth

in this cold cocoon

between you and me

will soon nurture itself,

mature,

and grow,

to have a voice of its own.

I wonder,

what will its say, then?

A.

2011-08-02T10:10:00.000+05:30

She comes to me
one early morning
and lures me with truth.

I am skipping to and fro
on a thin silk of a line
between whether I should or should not go.

She takes me anyways
because I do not say no.

She pirouettes on the frozen lake
and tells me she has danced to his guitar tune.
Have you?
Her laughter bounces of the ice
like an echo.

I stand
on the lakeside,
as frozen as the ice she’s stepping on,
she looks at her reflection and tells me
she’s more pretty than I am.

I do not deny.
I realize-
the ice is melting
into a puddle of nothing.

Let's Pretend

2011-07-31T11:15:00.000+05:30

Let's pretend we broke the ice,
Or rather we let it melt in the summer heat.

Let's pretend we can still undress ourselves in front of each other,
without having to cover up what we would be embarrased to show.

Let's pretend you licked off the blood that dripped from my wrists, wiped the tears that leaked from my eyes.

Let's pretend i healed your heart break. Was there holding your hand when u needed to get by.

Let's pretend we still whisper and giggle and fall in love with the same book.

Let's pretend we never looked at opposite directions and hid ourselves from one another.

Let's pretend everything is fine. that we never grew up and got busy with life.

Let's pretend we don't know what's wrong. Let's pretend the walls are invisible.

Let's pretend, best friend,
let's pretend we haven't missed each other at all
and that it's going to be easy to say goodbye.

A Humble Request

2011-07-31T11:14:00.000+05:30

I want to be
A word-
without a synonym.
not a cliche,
or an appalation overused.

So please,
Call me not 'love'
if you sell those like second-hand magazines on the foothpaths.
(or if you sell it at all).

Call me not 'love', love
if that name comes to you without any thought
for everyone that you
bump into on the sidewalk.

Just a question

2011-07-29T12:32:00.000+05:30

Where do I dump the contents of this cluttered mind?

Disappointment

2011-07-23T21:50:00.002+05:30

Half a pill
that won't neutralize the pain.
A ticket to the movie
you're dying to watch but won't be available
even if you are dead.
Delayed sequels to your smile
dangling on walls
that are now bare.
A magician's tricks
that you know the secret behind
and therefore doesn't blow your mind.

In small moments,
familiar music,
consoling words,
old friends,
you go look for your happiness
but you find, only tears,
which can't come out of your eyes,
and words that can't describe the state of your mind.

In the end,
What you get, is a half baked poem.
and that, my friend, is Disappointment.

Dear Mom.

2011-07-14T09:13:00.002+05:30

Dear Mom,
Today,
I realized-
We,ve been so busy with our own lives that,
when sitting across you
in a restaurant not frequented by many,
I cannot look you in the eyes,
anymore.
And, both of us don't know what to do with the silence.

Dear Mom,
I wasn't not hungry
but i said i wanted nothing.
You insisted.
I declined,
i saw tears well up in your eyes.
I could feel your love from deep inside.

I settled for a plate of momos.
They were the tastiest i've had in a long long time.

Dear Mom...
I came home and cried.

Why She Can Never Go.

2011-07-13T11:04:00.000+05:30

Train of thoughts
moving at a breakneck speed

inside your head,
taking you to crevasses and cracks inside of you

that you wouldn't want yourself, let alone others,

discover.

Everything is in motion

emotions turn into commotions,

erosion - of the self.

Sigh.

When twenty anti-depressants
won't satiate your hunger for happiness,
you pack your life in a suitcase,

and run to the bus stop.

You try not to think,
where you want to go?
who you want to leave behind?
what you want to take?
you only know what number bus to board on.

The bus is on the bend
and you are ready to go.
Suddenly
juxtaposed against the face of the strangers you do not know,
a face - of a stranger you pretend to know- appears.

You close your eyes to forget.
Next thing you know, you missed your bus
and you do not have the courage to board on to

the next.

Miss ya.

2011-07-12T15:52:00.000+05:30

From the moment you said you miss 'me'
I have been wondering what this means.

You said "miss ya",
I had to imply the I
and then process the phrase and direct it towards me,
you miss me.
ME.
ME.
It feels so good to hear that.

I still don't know what it means.
But it brought a smile on my face
that lingered for the rest of the day.

If I were.

2011-07-12T15:28:00.001+05:30

if i were a month, i’d be May
if i were a day of the week, i’d be Friday
if i were a time of day or night, i’d be 1:00 a.m
if i were a direction, i’d be left
if i were a piece of furniture, i’d be an cozy couch with cushions
if i were a liquid, i’d be tea
if i were a gemstone, i’d be a pearl
if i were a tree, i’d be a cherry blossom
if i were a flower, i’d be a Chrysanthemum
if i were a kind of weather, i’d be a mild monsoon drizzle.
if i were a color, i’d be turquoise
if i were a fruit, i’d be a kiwi
if i were a car, i’d be a beetle
if i were a food, i’d be kheer
if i were a material, i’d be linen
if i were a taste, i’d be sweet
if i were a scent, i’d be chocolate
if i were a facial expression, i’d be the smile you bring upon my face.

People you meet.

2011-07-05T16:51:00.001+05:30

In this oxymoron of a city
many a times,
I stumble on someone
I am not.

Sometimes,
I stumble on my own self.

Today,
I found my thoughts, emotions and situations
engraved in her stories.
She was the artsy, fashionable version of my own shabby-self.
A better version of me.

I said 'Hello,'
She smiled and said 'Hi.'
I am glad
She she seemed more happy than I.

Bubble

2011-07-04T10:47:00.000+05:30

When I spread my fingers
and couldn't find you,

I imagined
I blew you like a soap bubble
that created momentary rainbows
mid-air
and then
POP!

disappeared...
....before I could catch it
and keep it forever with me.

Strange-
how my heart needed less consolation
when I wanted to become a bubble...

Insomnia

2011-06-23T09:51:00.002+05:30

The sleep that escapes your eyelids
comes to dance on my ceilings
after it’s done eating you up inside.

She comes to prick me
in places
where there is not enough blood to shed
comes to haunt me
in stark daylight
to pour the residue of your insanity
into me.

The stone she throws
onto your sea
ripples in my pond.

She immerses you under her water
and I feel myself choke and drown.

She seduces you,
brings the devil out of you,
you lie awake giving in to her
when all you meant to do was resist.

Your spirit has been possessed.

The next morning I meet a red-eyed devil
who takes out his mistresses’ whip
and thrashes me,
then leaves me wiggling like a worm
half alive, half dead.

Inadequacy

2011-06-22T09:06:00.001+05:30

I melt.
Turn the rest 1/4 of me into water
and still can't fill your bucket.

Blamed

2011-06-22T09:05:00.000+05:30

Because i spilt the milk
that your cat readily licked off the floor and
dropped
dead
purple,
you said
my bosoms deserved to be cut off.

I spent the afternoon,
by myself,
in a corner of the room,
licking my flat-chested body
in an attempt to taste the poison
that you accused me of being filled with.

Outside-
On the green grassy meadow,
a cow mooed.

Rainy Sunday

2011-06-19T15:35:00.001+05:30

There is nothing about the rain,
that has probably not been written,
sung or said.

I search for our song
in the rhythm that the rain creates
filtering through the occasional honks, the squealing of tires,
a rare Nokia ringtone
and the sound of my fingers hitting the keys.

The song, I never find
turns itself into a yearning
and I wish the rain would flood these streets,
float me along like a paper boat,
to that room overlooking the field
where the strums of your guitar
sings duets with the rain.

I stretch out my tongue,
to catch a drop on the tip,
hoping I can taste the view outside your window.

I spread my arms,
wishing-
the gentle drops
slowly drench my every molecule
and turn me into a tiny raindrop,
that falls on your window sill.

There is probably nothing that hasn't been said about the rain,
and this must be the most cliched thing -
but i can't help it that this rainy Sunday
you are the only thing that I am missing.

Transmitter Explosion at Pulchowk, 14 June/7:35 pm. Girl Rescued From Fire, Always

2011-06-15T11:59:00.002+05:30

There we were.
Walking in pairs
like choco-filled biscuits
only, without the chocolate.

The fire engines on our right
a shame to their names.

And I was wondering
if I burned down right in front of them,
would they save me?

Just then,
there was an explosion.
Elsewhere, and in my heart.

The fire engines didn't move an inch
from behind the bars.
I said, "Thank God there wasn't a fire
out there, tonight."
Because, I know how it feels to burn.

There are million minute explosions in me,
every minute.
A fire, crackling and burning
painful and appealing.
But I say, thank God I have friends
and not rusty fire engines.

Cruel World and Wind

2011-06-14T09:01:00.002+05:30

my heart,
A thin sheet of paper,
Hung to the clothes' line to dry.
Battered by thd cold wind
Passing by.

What makes the wind blow tonight?
-the haunting,
piercing
absence of a simple tune.
Tch! This battered, blank, paper heart!

My heart,
A bruised beggar,
Tired of going from door to door
Begging for someone to
Drop into its alm,
The honest song that its soul has been forever hungry for.

The world.
The world is a cruel place where cruel winds blow.

Hints.

2011-06-14T08:55:00.002+05:30

I left behind bread crumbs.
Maybe the sparrows ate them.

I left behind pebbles,
Maybe you tripped on them.

I am leaving behind, my dripping blood-
A permanent trail-
This time i know you will reach me,
But i don't know if you will find me, though.

empty

2011-06-10T12:06:00.000+05:30

emptiness
doesn't come in installments.
It declares its overarching presence-
overwhelms,
until the empty feeling is the only emotion that dances to the rhythm of this heart.

Functions.

2011-06-02T11:20:00.002+05:30

What do migraines do?
They cause riots inside your head.
You feel the blood
pulsating,
rebelling,
trying to break the walls and explode.
They make you numb
with the sort of pain that makes you want glue your eyelids together
and let darkness engulf.

What do mid-day fires do?
They eat up your house.
Nom.nom.nom.
Like a hungry demon
they chew on the bricks, the cement, the steel,
your books, your cups and china, your clothes and curtains
they bite off your flesh, your hope, your will to go on,
they burn not houses but homes.

What does money do?
It sticks to your iris until you're blinded by the green.
it makes little girls beg on the street and big women sell their soul
it makes your stomach walls burn and your mind run on treadmills
it makes a lot of noise and steals your sleep
it makes you wake up at seven in the morning and work a nine to five job you do not love

What does me do?
Me sits in my cubicle
with migraine plauging my body, draining my energy
trying to write mediocre poetry
talking to long lost traveler friends, who you met by chance on some virtual space,
busy saviors, you can't always keep for yourself,
until you can't think straight anymore
and you can't speak sense anymore.
themigraineismessinguptoobadwithyourhead.themigraineismessinguptoobadinyourhead.
yes, that's what migraines do.

There

2011-05-26T09:38:00.000+05:30

I thought you said you'd always be There ?
But i traced the paths
and looked up the maps
and still can't find where There is.

I know I am direction dyslexic
Don't know where left or right is
Don't know what's left or what's right either
But I assumed this There would be easy to find.

I walked and walked and walked some more
Hailed cabs
switched buses
even tried to fly
and yet couldn't find There
or find you,
or find you There.

Did you forget to come?
Did you lose your way?
Did you take the wrong bend?

No, it must have been me.
Maybe I wasn't listening and misheard.
Wait, did you say you will NOT be There?
Yes it must have been that.

If so, then where did you say you would be, for me?
Tell me cause I need to find you now
get to wherever you are
because for me, there is no other place to go.
Tell me where your There is and,
I will come to you.

Or tell me where else will you be?
since There is a place I cannot find.
I promise I will be there, where ever you want me to be
and yes, I mean it,
For you, I will be There
all you need to do is have faith in me
You will always, always find me There,
there for you,
and I promise my There
will not be hard to find.

Half

2011-05-25T10:46:00.000+05:30

I am half a cup of coffee
that you won't drink.
A three leaved clover
when you're searching for four.
Rain when you don't want it to rain
I'm half the things you won't accept.

Ignore this, Ignore me

2011-05-22T11:58:00.000+05:30

go ahead

and ignore me

insult me

then adore me

disappoint me

and be disappointed by me

say you'll save me

and not even try (me)

go ahead

and deny me

surprise me

act like you care for me

eat me

and spit me

speak me

and forget me

read me

and unread me

go ahead

and scold me

ask me

fuss about me

like me

love me

let me

tell me

this poem is about me

break me

take me

shake me

spite me

angry me

Go ahead

and forgive me

this is the just too angry stupid me

the imperfect and inadequate me

the swinging in mood swings me

so go head and be not nice to me

Just please go ahead

and ignore me!!!

Rainy evenings on a bench at Mangal Bazaar

2011-05-20T09:07:00.000+05:30

Colombus clouds inside my head,
Out.
Rain puddles reflecting the temples' adornments red,
Out.
Waves of chants reverberating thick,
Out.
Glistening walls, protecting gods, made of brick,
Out.
Colorful umbrellas making love to the rain,
Out.
Your dead demons gnawing on my brain,
OUT!

Bloody eyes.

2011-05-19T10:31:00.002+05:30

They said my midnight eyes
spilled stories
of the cruelty of men,
a mesh of lies,
of shoes that bite,
legs that were chopped
because they fancied a skirt.

I cannot see my eyes.
I cannot tell you if this is right.
But when I close them,
this is the sight:

A stout creature-
he must be a man
with moon-shaped glasses stands.
His head moves from side to side
He looks, he stares, he glares
like there is something he can snatch right out of my soul.

My lips twitch in rhythm
i am running and running and running round and round and round
he's coming and coming and coming
Shhh, you, don't make a sound.

Tell me who is the creep?
Tell me who is the creep?

Spirals upwards
stand.
trip.
and open my eyes.

even from the bokeh that the world is
I can see it clear
that there is a man, always a man, in front of me.
who holds me with his bloody hands
and kisses my midnight eyes with his bloody lips.

O how i wish my bloody eyes popped out
before they were kissed,
POP-ped out before they were kissed.

2011-05-19T10:09:00.002+05:30

ithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadithinkimadeyouupinsidemyheadbutiforgetbutiforgetbutiforgetbutiforgetwhoareyouwhoami

Birthdays

2011-05-18T09:53:00.000+05:30

Perhaps it was something about blowing candles
but never having my wishes come true,

It could have been that the cakes came with a heavy cost
and my mother started to forget the exact date that I was born,

Maybe the fact that I was actually 10 years ahead of all my birthdays
and had already grown old for barbie dolls and teddy bears when I was six,

It could have been that the day always was so disappointing
too weak to handle the pressure I put upon it
yet still strong enough to make me cry,

But I never feel alive on the day I was born.

Months

2011-05-15T12:09:00.000+05:30

This is how I live-
Counting weeks,
too eager for the first to leap to the last.
Waiting impatiently for the calendar to flip
to better days.

January
February
March
April
May be May would be better.
June?
July
Can't wait for August
September
October
November
December
A new year would do me good?
January...

I live-
in one month
with my heart and hopes for another
and when its another,
my heart and hopes for the next one.

Failed Blue print

2011-05-15T11:16:00.001+05:30

It's been ten days since I posted anything here, raicha. Ten days and I have been to so many places that I thought I would never go to. I realized I have become so different from the person that I actually wanted to be. I feel like a construction-gone-wrong, so different from the blue print that I had in my mind for myself.

Thamel Series (VII)

2011-05-05T16:59:00.003+05:30

remind me,

what the dark rich chocolate tasted like
when it came to leave us all in a mid-day high

because the flavour has evaporated from my tongue

tell me
what our song was like
because the tune now comes to me only as silence
sing to me our ballads
because I am now even wary of their existence.

hold me
tie me with silk strings
pin me to those bulletins
place me tightly on those wooden shelves
and make me hold on
because I am falling out of these colors
these shapes, these sounds, these very grounds
I

falling out

of
Thamel.

Thamel Series (VI)

2011-05-05T08:56:00.000+05:30

Courage is not a piece of Pumpernickel chocolate cake.
But if it was,
I'd already have given you a piece of your mind
(and perhaps the whole of my heart)
by now.

Thamel Series (V)

2011-05-04T11:16:00.000+05:30

...Is
A pair of disappointment.

Thamel Series (III)

2011-05-04T11:15:00.000+05:30

Drunk on whiffs of Jasmine incense
Something in me awakens.

You undress me with your eyes, I let you.

The background becomes a bokeh-
Thamel is a psychedelic seduction.

Thamel Series (IV)

2011-05-03T15:54:00.000+05:30

Drunk on whiffs of jasmine incense
something inside me awakens

You undress me with your eyes, I let you.

The background becomes a bokeh-

Thamel is a psychedelic seduction.

Thamel Series (II)

2011-05-03T15:37:00.002+05:30

Thamel is an absence

without those sloppy bear hugs.

Bajya.

2011-05-02T11:57:00.000+05:30

The night when mother locked me out, Bajya took the blame on himself. I shouldn't have said a word about the extra salt in the curry, he said, now she is all angry and you are the one to suffer.

Bajya smuggled me in and let me sleep by his side that night- in that small bed that has been giving me refuge since my memory could recall. Bajya: a sweet, thick smell of kindness. He slept as his heart beat close to my ear. That moment, I felt i was six again and it was one of those nights when I would end up sleeping to his stories because I couldn't sleep or because I was too scared or because I was crying or just because. Well, that hadn't changed. The only thing that had was that now, I was shamefully years too old to ask Bajya to retell those tales for me when I couldn't sleep.

I woke up at around 3 am that night to Bajya shuffling around and complaining he was dizzy as he headed out to the bathroom.He needs to follow up on that check up, I reminded myself as I waited for the flushing sound and the 'tak' of the light switch to come from the bathroom adjacent to the room. I could hear Bajya's murmuring complains echo through the tiles as I juggled countless thoughts in my head. They stopped in a while - bajya's murmurs - and I assumed he was coming out. My ears expected to hear the click any second. But, it didn't come.

I waited.

There was nothing but silence, amplified by the night. It had been quite a while now that he was inside. I will call im, i thought as my heart grew heavy in contemplation of what I would do if he did not answer. Could not answer?

Bajya!
Nothing.

Bajyaa!
Nothing.

Bajjyaaaa i called out. Now, trembling.

Nothing.

I felt like my body had been sucked into a hole and I rushed outside the bathroom and called out 'Bajyaa' once again like a desperate prayer.

"Chya chhay?," he finally replied. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Chu Jula? Gayta La? Gya mwaa: ji du ye du ni," he was concerned.

I thanked god. Thanked him that nothing was wrong with my Bajya and snuggled up in bed. I stayed awake that night, listening to Bajya breathe.

Thamel Series (I)

2011-05-01T17:00:00.001+05:30

1. He stores photographs of all the gorgeous women of the world, in his heart.
If you are not in it, go change the color of your iris.

She
wants to get drunk in the wilderness of the lost world we all belong to.

Purple

2011-04-26T16:27:00.001+05:30

She blushed purple when he looked her in her eye
for a moment she did not know where to look anymore
so she looked up the purple monsoon sky.

Purple was the color of his shirt
buttoned down just enough
to display his purple bruises.

Purple played on the stereo
purple floated like petunia-scented incense in the atmosphere
purple looked like hurt on her face
when that 'do you love me?' was left unanswered
and he left
her-
all shades of purple
and drifted into a purple haze.

Get Out.

2011-04-24T10:18:00.001+05:30

won't you?

before i start needing your attention
like I need air to breathe.

I do not need another attachment
another living breathing person that I want to cling on to forever and ever!!!

Get out!!

before we start falling in a pit

of confusion
of needing, longing, insecurity, demands, ugliness
love that rotted
became vile and hurted.

Leave.
before I ask you
and make you
stay with me forever.

Leave before you really want to leave.