Sorry

a pencil
a paper
no eraser
no picture

she smiled
as her pencil flew
across the paper
and created beauty

a bright face
a brighter thought
it couldn’t be erased
it couldn’t be captured

she frowned
at her mistake
and put down
her pencil

a lost expression
a lost soul
the drawing was her thought
the drawing was not her face

she cried
tore apart the paper
along with all
that kept her going

a given up hope
a forgotten dream
behind her shut mind
behind her shut eyes

a shred of paper
slipped from her fingers
which were now cold
“sorry”

All I want

All I want is to talk,

But you want to tell me

About the explicit things

That you want to do to me.

All I want is to be seen

For the person that I am,

Not for my face or eyes

Or long legs that you like.

Al I want is to be loved

And to have friends

Who see me for who I am

Not for how I look.

All I want is to love

Without any lust,

Without hurting,

Or without getting hurt.

All I want is to be heard,

For my true voice to be let out,

But you won’t talk

Unless there’s something in it for you.

All I want is to be human,

But you want me to be

One of your possessions

That you keep on your arm.

The End.

she was still waiting
for a love that would never return
there was a fire blazing
in her heart

he silently wept
as he saw her weep
he wanted to hug her
and not just peep

they would never be together
it was not meant to be
it could never last forever
and so dreams were shattered

she was a rose
and her thorns were plenty
yet her beauty was such
it left him empty

she knew all about him
but would not say a word
and cared only for her vim
her lover to return

she was a breaker
and broke plenty of hearts
but they all ate up their sorrow
as if it was a tart

he thought to himself
and finally took a step
he went a bit too far
and reached for the shelf

he picked up what was his
and did what he had to
it took his life
and hers too

Sweater Weather

Have you seen her cry?
She doesn’t look ‘pretty’.
Her face is red,
and her eyes are puffy.

Have you seen her bleed?
She isn’t always okay.
Her blood is red,
and her hands tremble.

Have you seen her take off her mask?
She isn’t always happy.
Her eyes are sad too,
and her tears are real.

Have you seen her look perfect?
She doesn’t have to be.
Her beauty lies in imperfection,
and her scars show it.

But, have you seen her truly smile?
She doesn’t hide it.
Her smile is flawless,
and it’s like a thousand suns shining.

Have you heard her really laugh?
She doesn’t suppress it.
Her laugh is contagious,
and it’s fucking amazing.

“hang on.”

“hang on”
i said
“to what?”
he asked

“keep going”
i told him
“Alright”
he replied

“you can”
i tried
“hopefully”
he didn’t believe

and today,
he said those words
to me
but i didn’t reply

And today
my thoughts overpowered me
i didn’t react
i didn’t care

“hang on”
“keep going”
“you can”
but i couldn’t

nothing to hang onto
nothing to keep going for
i didn’t see another way
I’m sorry it happened

i stopped caring
long ago
but now
i stopped feeling too

text showed up
on a lit screen
never to find a reply,
my fingers were cold.

Instinct

I looked at him,
into his eyes.
I rarely ever did,
but I couldn’t control it.
Maybe it was instinct.

I helped him get ready,
I had lovingly picked out
his clothes for the evening,
down to his tie and cuff-links.
Maybe it was instinct.

I watched him gel his hair,
tie his shoelaces,
and pull on his coat
over a crisp, white shirt.
Maybe it was instinct.

I shut the door afterhim,
almost immediately wanting him to return.
A knock on the door
told me he did.
Maybe it was instinct.

He pocketed his phone,
said he forgot something, and with a smile,
hugged me and dropped a kiss on my head,
and then he left.
Maybe it was instinct.

I sat on the edge of my chair,
fidgeted with my clothes.
I got up to do some work,
then sat back down.
Maybe it was instinct.

I picked up my phone,
sent him a message,
“hey honey, come back soon,
I’d love to be by your side today.”
Maybe it was instinct.

Half an hour later,
he called me.
“I’ll be home in a couple of hours,
hang tight, don’t worry.”
Maybe it was instinct.

“Alright, but i don’t know why,
something seems off today.”
Then i knew it.
I heard it, loud and clear.
Maybe it was instinct.

“Maa” he whispered,
as soon as i heard the shot.
He moaned, fell,
And I did too.
Maybe it was instinct.

Then I pictured it,
His beautiful face filled with agony,
his white shirt soaked red.
his life slipping away from him.
Maybe it was instinct.

The day that I once cherished,
Now had a different reason
to be etched in my mind forever,
with me till I died, like him.
Maybe it was instinct.

It was his birthday,
the happiest day of his life,
now the saddest of mine.
He was gone, I was empty.
Maybe it was instinct.

~~~~

Thousands of mothers lose their children to terrorism, crime and other ruthless murderers. This was a brief story of a boy going out to celebrate his birthday with his friends, but his mother’s instinct warned her that something could go wrong. Like several children who were gunned down by terrorists in restaurants in Indian metropolitan cities like Bangalore and Mumbai IRL, he too was killed at the venue. And all his mother could to was to hear her child’s life slowly slip away from him, breath by breath.

The Moment

She looked at the bathtub,
it was filling up with color.
She peered closer and smiled,
she could smell it too now.

This was the scent,
that would cover them both.
She sat on the edge,
waiting for him.

When he casually strolled in,
she embraced him with a longing.
The water fizzled and shifted as they got in,
never letting go of one another.

Steam rose from the warm water,
and the mirror was too foggy to look into.
But they didn’t need it,
they just needed each other.

The moment was theirs,
sitting there in the tub,
They held each other tight,
while bath-bombs fizzed around them.

She whispered, “always stay here,
never leave me, be mine”.
He kissed her, and then said,
“all yours, forever and always”.

 

(picture via Pinterest)

Spellbound

Frayed sleeves
of my hoodie,
hanging off
my limp arms.

I’m just staring,
at something marvelous,
and he’s looking
back at me.

And then,
he spoke to me
and his voice
left me mesmerized.

Then he smiled,
and i was blinded
by the brightness
of that million watt beam.

It took me a while
to regain my senses,
so i could appreciate
the wonder in front of me.

I stammered,
and I stumbled,
but I managed a smile
in his direction.

What could i
be expected to do,
I was so helplessly
spellbound.

 

3:00 a.m.

it’s 3:00 a.m,
we’re fighting over chat.
There’s a movie in the background,
no heed to that.

You’re hurt,
I’m upset.
It’s all gone wrong,
my pillow is wet.

It’s one of those days,
we don’t know what to do.
I’m hoping it’ll work out,
can’t really lose you.

I’ve messed up,
you’re done with me,
But please,don’t give up,
I think it’s meant to be.

not another care in the world,
not another sound to be heard.
don’t worry about us,
there isn’t a third.

Forget those times,
there’s nothing about them.
For now, I know that
I’m losing me a gem.

You’re slowly slipping away,
into the darkness around.
There’s a confidence in you,
bold, newly found.

No, don’t go,
it’s 3:00 a.m.
but you’re the one I think of
even at 3:00 p.m.

“Get lost”,
you say.
But I’m too clingy,
And it’s already day.

It’s gone too far,
I’m ready to give up.
Sitting up in my bed,
I drink some water from my cup.

Suddenly, it’s all good,
we’re both tired,
but everything’s alright,
and now, together we’re wired.

 

Colors Like Death

Red like the blood
flowing through my veins,
Red like the hoodie
hiding me from the cold.

Orange like the sun
setting behind the trees,
Orange like the pen
scribbling in my notebook.

Yellow like the cup
holding all my pens,
Yellow like the post-its
reminding me to do stuff i won’t.

Green like the marker
lying with its cap open,
Green like the grass
rustling in the wind.

Blue like the sky
turning dark by the minute,
Blue like my hair-tie,
holding no hair at all.

Indigo like the paper cutter
opening and closing in my hand,
Indigo like the empty jar of cream
now filled with little paper cranes.

Violet like the paper crane
longing to leave my desk,
Violet like the roll of tape
sitting unused in the dispenser.

Black like the darkness
waiting for thee,
Black like the death
that’s waiting for me.