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Monthly Archives: July 2017

“Some other time” – Nayana Nair

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I want to tell you
how you slowly became the tree
that guards me from the happiness and sadness
of the world,
and let me create my own.
How it was lovely to see you grow.
How it hurt to love you.
How beautiful you were even in the worst of your moments.
How I selfishly wanted to be the only scar on your heart
and only smile on your face.
How,on days that I desperately
looked for a reason to stay,
yours was the only name
that anchored me in this world.
I will tell you how I always lived
dreaming of death,
dreaming of release,
and how thankful I am that
you kept me alive.
I will tell you all this.
But not today.
Some other time.

“Undone” – Nayana Nair

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The world drips down.
One drop at time.
Dragging and blurring
the colors
that marks the edges
that separate all of us.
A drop too heavy,
a drop too light.
And as it splatters
into smaller drops.

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My love and my peace
are droplets fallen far apart.
My happiness and my people,
my dreams and my courage,
exist in different planes,
different moments
confusing me
of what I am,
of what should I choose to be.

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And there falls another drop
and someone else
also gets to know,
what it means to be undone
and scattered.
And how beautiful it was
that a droplet of your pain
fell on my droplet of love.
How beautiful,
that a new world was colored
in the drops of the one destroyed.

“Your Pieces” – Nayana Nair

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There were pieces of you
that were not mine.
I tried to make you my picture,
tried to get rid of the part
where I could see reflection
of loves that could have almost stayed for life.
I wanted you for me
and that’s where I went wrong.

“Days and Nights” – Nayana Nair

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I see you there
on the terrace of a house
that I must imagine,
for I have never seen it
in all the years we have been together-
your house-
that sits on the same piece of land as mine.
The roads,
the night,
the days-that separate us.
The words that fill
this huge space between us
little by little.
Trying to bring me closer to you,
these words day by day
fill this city to its brim.
Till I hear your heart
from miles away.
But I feel you are not mine
As your words, like poison
eat away my love.
I miss those streets, the nights.
I miss the days
when there was more to this world,
than you.

“Home” – Nayana Nair

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I will give you a list houses
that once used to be my home
and addresses that are the only memory
that has not been blurred
or manipulated by my mind.
If you ever want to find me,
go there.

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You will see the line of trees that
framed my sunrise
and almost dry riversbeds of
round white stones, where
I slipped once (or more).
You will see the duststorms,
and the heavy rains
I stood in.
You will see the the intersections,
I could never quite cross.
But all this you see,
is not me.

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If you want to find the ‘me’,
‘me’ that I do not know of,
that I cannot give you,
go there.
And look for windows I sat by.
Look for the cold floor I lied on.
Sit there and think of a girl
who never felt quite like a person,
who could look at what lay ahead
and know
that neither the path, nor the journey was hers.
Who only wanted a room flooded with
gentle light of drowning sun,
and songs that could make her sadness beautiful.

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“Name a few” – Nayana Nair

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Your hands were tired
of holding me together,
holding me to ground,
keeping me safe from myself
and my fate.
And when you were no longer there
I could go anywhere in the world,
live different lives,
and see the world anew.
Wait for the death
of my sorrow.
Or kill myself with what I am.
All this I have found
at the cost of
losing earth, me, and you,
to name a few.

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“Knock” – Nayana Nair

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My life is divided into different rooms
as is my heart.
For as long as I remember,
from the time I used to care for decorations
to the time I am too lazy to clean up.
From the moments of sweet solitude by the window
to the clinking glasses and winking eyes.
The room belonged more to them
than to me.

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And I often found it unsettling,
as if on a night
when I would be hiding under covers
not knowing what to fear,
someone would knock at the door
and with that knock, would come a pair of shoes
and a set of clothes, holding a person
whose face, motive or aim
would soon be inconsequential.

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And slowly she would drag me
out of each room,
snatching away each memory that she touched,
knocking down my bookcases filled with my escape,
tearing away the wallpapers
behind which I hid my unvoiced cries.
The doors would be shut on my face,
leaving me out in a storm on a moonless night,
leaving me alone to face all that I didn’t know of
taking away all that I know.

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