RSS Feed

Tag Archives: cling

“What do you know?” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

why is it so
that i can only choose love if i let myself look weak.
it should have been easy to look weak and crumbling,
when that is what i feel all the time.
but it isn’t easy.
maybe because the weakness of my heart has never made me look incompetent,
it just made me look cold and aloof.
being good for nothing is more tragic than being broken or being hated.

how hard i have tried all my life to be good at something.
so that i am not useless, so that people don’t leave me behind on purpose,
so that i can at least look like someone capable and not be embarrassed of myself.

after all the years of running around
and making myself believe
that soon, soon i will become someone i can be proud of;
instead of finding myself, i find you.
i find the in myself the want
to let go of this control, that hurts my hands,
but letting go hurts my pride.

somehow i can’t stop blaming you for asking me to live as me,
for asking me to stop hurting myself.
what do you know about the life i have lived?
what do you know about the things i have sacrificed for living like this?
how can you ask me to break what i have built for years?

i cry, i push you away, i cling to the what i am supposed to be,
asking you why you can’t just be what i supposed you would be.
again i am asked to choose between me and this world.
again i know i will choose myself.
(by choosing to please the world rather than choosing myself?)
but you have some nerve to declare that i won’t.
i hate you for your stupid confidence
and your disregard for all that i will lose.

“On My Own” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

Once the shade of the shutters
are rolled down,
once I am left on my own,
reason and explanation rush in,
try to cling and climb up
the cracks of my heart,
and the folds of my brain,
trying desperately to stop me
to reach out, to find me
in the fog of fear.

But I am already far ahead,
my hands reach for everything it could hold,
everything it could break
and hurl them at the window
till it broke,
till I could cry
for the things that were robbed from me.
I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop hurting myself
even when I lay half-broken under dangling paper curtains,
even when all that I broke pierced my skin and hurt me back.
If I stopped, I would again hear the steps
that always walks over my world and reduces me to dust.

“Weeds of our Garden” – Nayana Nair

We sit here all day, in our own corners.
The only corner that we could save from the world that we left.
The only piece of happiness we decided to carry on ourselves
because we didn’t wanted to be considered pitiful for clinging to something.
Because once we thought that feelings such as these are only hindrance.
Because we saw love as lint on our fine clothing,
something that should be removed like weeds from the garden of our ambition.
Believed that if we are enough, if we have enough
we can always find new friends and new love.

***

In the wind, there always used to be a rumor of someone
drunk on past, the one who used to shout and sing at midnight
songs about how nothing new he bought,
no one new he gave his heart to
could make him forget
about all those he had turned his back on.
My friend, I am afraid we have become that same person.
And we are pathetic not because we loved too much
but because we couldn’t love anyone,
not even ourselves.

“Boundary” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

mountain-views-in-winter__508x400

How long will my broken heart
cling to your skin
knowing that the boundaries of reality and happiness
are drawn where we meet.
How long can we stand on either side of this fate
that we are afraid of,
that we are drawn to in spite of our fear.

“Look at the Sky” – Nayana Nair

epicentro.tv_

Look
at the sky
that clings to its delicate drops of light,
forgetting they are suns.

“Walking Home” – Nayana Nair

f39377e19bae66ca6e026d9753f10855--urban-photography-artistic-photography

The street is lined with houses
that have forgotten how to breathe anything
but neglect.
There are broken windows
through which I see hopeful eyes staring and crying
trapped in homes that
reek of wait that yields more wait.
The street is lined with trees that never grew.
The roads cling to the snow that never melts.
We all have learned how to go deaf to cries of help
(that’s what growing up means?)
and walk home to our own tragedies-
some we suffer, some we create
and some we never stop.

“Hum in my ears” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

original

There are sorrows too shallow to be indulged in,
too gray to strike anyone’s eye.
There are sorrows that are only mine,
That hum in my ears
as I struggle to sleep.
These are the sorrows that define our life.
and destroy our peace.
Sorrow born out of dreams that
never got a chance to be born.
Sorrow that we cling to
to remember we can dream.

The Milos-Ivanski Studio

Featuring the work of Lori Milos-Ivanski

Don't Eat It! Soap and Skin Care

Handcrafted Soap, Bee Keeping, Farming and More

WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Strolling around SE Michigan & sending joy in the journey.

Priscilla Bettis, Author

The making of a horror novelist.

Silent Hour

Poetry and prose by Basilike Pappa

ForgivingConnects

A Safe Place to Share Your Stories

simon.jacob

The Journey Begins

Park Bench Tales and other writings

Thoughts and writings reflecting the poet within and the activist

Pix to Words

Photographically Inspired Writing

Il Canto delle Muse

La cosa importante è di non smettere mai di interrogarsi. La curiosità esiste per ragioni proprie. Non si può fare a meno di provare riverenza quando si osservano i misteri dell'eternità, della vita, la meravigliosa struttura della realtà. Basta cercare ogni giorno di capire un po' il mistero. Non perdere mai una sacra curiosità. ( Albert Einstein )

Cichy zakątek poezji

Miłość nie istnieje w sobie, ale w nas, jest naszym osobistym dziełem. " - Marcel Proust

La poesía, eso decían

Como plasmar la idea natural.

/ɛm/ɛn/piː/

- MyNewPerspective ... seeing the world through different eyes -

Poesíainstante

Personal e íntimo

Something to Ponder About

Lifestyle, Travel, Traditional Art and Community

Tittle Thoughts

Discussions on life influences and travels

Colțul Cultural

repaus cu cap