she traced the light on my chestpulled out everything that stung-the swings, my feet,the shadow i decided no longer to play with. the comparision table of veins and arteriescopied into my notebook.the eraser and pencil that helped me documentin those tables my lackings compared to everyone else. a page torn, and then another, and thenContinue reading ““mornings break us apart again” – Nayana Nair”
Once I didn’t feel less for wanting less.But now my ambitions are the measure of my capabilities. Now as I try to get/buy/copy a new agreeable dream,I am instructed to be ‘unapologetically me’,apologising only to myselfevery time I smile in a life that I didn’t wantand can never love.
The book that I can’t read is not abandoned on the shelves has not been moved to the lowest rack because it is bad. But because so much of me is filled in it. So many words from my heart reside on those pages, that I am bound to question if this is the reasonContinue reading ““Book that I can’t read” – Nayana Nair”
While you read my words and said, “How strange is this world!” Sunlight rushed in, to hold a strand of your hair, fell on these pages and cried out like a child, hurt that it could not have you. I smiled to myself knowing what you meant. These words of mine reminded you of theContinue reading ““Defeated Packets” – Nayana Nair”
We found each other on an unfamiliar street, lost in the vanishing promises and fickle feet, on journeys of days to all burnt down plays, holding the copied out lines, clutching the words we will never get to say.
I see this small image of me in my mind’s eye. In a world filled with black fog, there in the center stands someone. Who feels like my life personified. I feel I am copy of whoever stands in that darkness. I feel I only exist there. I feel I am the darkness.