At the back of your hand
I had once planted a kiss
that yearns for my lips till now.
Is that excuse enough,
for me to run back to you one more time?
Would one more time,
would these words be enough
to show that I have not forgotten you yet?
Would you like to stay with this-
this sad piece for me – this mind stuck in time?
Would you walk the distance I am left to cover
and come up with an excuse of your own,
if I took the first hit at my ego with a smile
that only love can cause?
I am happy. Almost.
I leave my bed to sit beside the window
that looks over the road.
I stare at everything that lives and dies beside me.
I will my brain to think of a rhyme
that I can gift this world.
I feel that my love for this ocean
of people far exceeds my loathing.
I am almost happy to be alive.
Though almost is a big word, a painful word.
It is is still smaller than the distance I have covered so far,
it is negligible to everything that has ever stood in my way.
‘Almost’ is something I can overlook,
as long as I have something to look forward to.
I cannot give up on this world even when I should.
What does a beautiful day look like?
Your smile filling my heart
with the sweetness that I hate.
The crystals of sugar, your gentle words
cover everything in the world,
like a world lost in a blizzard
all that kept me on my feet vanishes.
I breathe easier because you are here.
What does a beautiful day day look like?
There are no beautiful days dear.
There are just days that we were happy,
the days I will look back with tears in my heart,
with these weak hands that could never hold onto you.
Make me a little more happier love,
give me one more reason to be sad
when you are gone.
The cracking ground I kneeled on for answers
have become riverbeds where I’ll drown,
the reason of my tears,
the reason of my broken voice
that travels along the lines
of the words I mutter
without meaning anything more
than to put my mouth into use.
I scratch the walls of the dreams I once painted
till the petals of colors cover my ground
only to reveal a the nightmare of empty hands.
I hold the petals, the chipped away paint
and feel the closest to my dream,
the closest I will ever be.
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.
Our hearts are perpetually
in a time
that flows around us.
And our ghosts pin us to our sins,
while we yearn to be the person
we were a second ago.
Though our heart are
full of ashes and smoke
of loves we have burned with us.
We still hopelessly wish to be with the one
that we have destroyed.
We live in the distance
that no apologies can cover.
that many suffer
but only few endure.
I saw you
soft as the clouds of heaven.
I felt you
covered in the condensed drops
of love that the whole world breathes out.
And I hated you for it.
I saw your skin marked with me.
I saw the cracks in your smile
covered in my kisses.
I saw my reflection in your heart
that was made for my thirst.
I saw my heart.
I saw what hid there.
I saw the storm that never calms.
I saw the poison that has no color.
I saw your eyes become the clouds,
I saw it rain.
I saw you tremble as earthquake
that tries to contain itself.
I saw you make your home
in my storm.
And I hated you for that.