I find myself more broken that I was before.
I find myself praying to every deity who did me wrong,
who never cared,
praying that they changed their mind,
hoping that maybe today they will find me pitiful enough
and finally see me as one of their child.
And while they continue to stay silent and cruel and distant,
I tell myself that they are doing this for my own good,
that all love cannot be the same.
But these days
I can’t even believe these words
that kept me afloat for so long.
So now, I have found another lie to tell myself
that “everyone suffers like me”
and though it is enough to stop me from tearing up
but the pain doesn’t pass,
and it is no one fault but mine.
That I continued to need the love
that didn’t need me back.
The thought of you
walking down to me
and speaking to me as if speaking to a child,
as if speaking to one with disability of understanding only your words.
It brings me to an ocean of receding waves and words
where we could have walked every morning,
we could have found a way to love our water bodies
without waiting for it become tears.
But you keep coming to me.
~we could think of all names and fates we could have had instead~
~we could play a game of guessing the memories that ruined us for each other~
Almost near my shaking hands
asking me to stop.
To stop thinking of these painful scenarios
To stop ignoring the one who is asking his leave
I wish I could no longer hear you voice.
I wish I stopped hurting.
I wish my stars would hurry up
and bring me the death they promised long ago.
~all along i thought it was you~
I wish I could continue this dream with someone else
and never notice the one who walks beside me
loves me too much to be you.
However convenient it is to pretend,
but we are not the types that go into hibernation
and expect life to continue where we left it.
Though there is a part of us
that wants to hide ourselves into any warm embrace
and rely on darkness for safekeeping our innocence.
There is also a part of us
that wants to stay and see through the end,
however terrible and heart-breaking that maybe.
We fear not knowing
as much as
living alongside a truth not and knowing its name.
There is so much to forget.
To get along, to make peace with.
To give up.
Only so that I can continue
to be entertained by the little happiness
I have been given.
There are so many egdes I must invent everyday
so that I do not find this earth round,
so that I do not find my way back
to my own voice.
I do not want to continue this-
to harbor, carry around,
give voice to feelings of sympathy
that can never be more than words.
After I have said all the right things
and you have given the correct response,
we feel we have done everything we can
that a good person must do to save the world,
when we are just protecting the leftover
humanity we have in ourselves,
to wear it like a badge
in conversations that can bring no change.
our indulgent families, our fun-loving friends,
our irritating neighbours-
have never stepped out of our own lives
never given up on our comforts
unless it is for accumulating some good karma.
We should not be allowed to feel so generous
for saying so much and doing so little.
Would love have been much easier
if it was not you whom I loved?
Am I even allowed to have such thought?
Am I allowed to drift away from you atleast in my mind?
Am I allowed to regret while I continue to love you?
I thought I would only have one poster
when I decided to clearly define what I am.
I stuck it up only after careful consideration.
Consideration of the space it takes.
Consideration of the how much I am allowed to grow.
Condsideration for the things that will be hidden away and
lost under the layer of this paper,
which is necessary
maybe only for me.
And soon when my smile changed a bit,
I had to get new poster.
When I could no longer sing along to my favoutite song,
I had to get a new poster.
When my legs became more noticeable than my words,
I had to get a new poster.
When my dreams felt hollow, I had to get a new poster.
But the soon I ran short of space.
Soon the only way to continue seeing myself for what I am
was to cover up what I was once.
To make space for another me
to exist another day.
so that I do not wake up one morning
not knowing who I am.
I continue to live in the light of my own making
knowing it is the only light I’ll ever find.
For a moment I wonder, how I look to you.
Loosing my sorrow.
Loosing my frown.
Loosing my mind.
One by one
I close these windows
through which your eyes prod me,
to see what’s left behind.
This growing envy, this show for sympathy
these broken words with drops of blood
is all that you would find.
She left the door ajar
and closed the curtains as she left,
like she did so many things
that I didn’t ask her to do.
Like so many things I didn’t notice.
Did I fear darkness of the room?
Did I fear drifting into sleep
no longer be sure
that this body would continue breathing?
I feared a lot.
I knew the names of imaginary insects
that crawled inside my mind.
But only she knew how to close my eyes
and close my heart
to the pain and paranoia
that only I could feel.
I woke up to curtains soaking the sunlight
and the sweet humming from next room.
And I didn’t want this humming
to go farther