i refuse to go out into
the storm of kindness
where well-meaning people
drunk on the idea of charity
are running amok on streets.
they don’t know themselves
but they know my kind,
they know all the kinds of people
i might turn into
if i don’t give up and let them in.
they want to know the name of person
who broke me so well.
they want me to cry a bit
and to try saying hello first.
the seat they sit on, still has my warmth.
i still know the name of strangers i prayed for.
how easily things change.
every life had hope,
every pain could be overcome
as long as they were not mine.
there are mornings
when i have forgotten how to forget.
i open my eyes
only believing the dream just broken.
there are mornings
when i hate myself for waking up
and my body for needing reality so much.
“i cannot give my heart to you”,
i remind myself to say this
as i gulp down a glass of chocolate milk,
in case someone decides to fall in love with me today.
it is unfortunate
that i have to force myself to say these words,
when it is so much easier to utter “yes”,
especially when i have hunger only for love.
as i untangle my earphones
i almost step into another puddle of my previous life.
there is something odd about finding my tears again.
i stand there, wanting to be of comfort to myself
but the one who is still drowning, drowning for years
i do not want her,
i do not want to catch her disease of hope.
there are days like these,
when taking a step forward is the most cruel thing to do.
when being human is risky, is the first step towards defeat.
when healing comes with a downtime, time that I must answer for.
on days like these
i find myself losing my sight,
and it is in that darkness that I find you.
how lucky you are that you will stay like this
stay beautiful, stay mine
only in my moments of madness and helplessness.
P.S. i am always amazed
at how easy it is to give up on myself
that to give up on you. even when you were the worst of us.
I have heard many say
that blue is saddest color.
But what I find more sad is
how almost everyone I know
knows how to imagine/recall a sadness
at the mention of this color.
I imagine this-
all of us,
millions of us
standing in one huge room
and someone mentioning this color,
this harmless color.
I imagine our collective sadness,
our collective agony.
I imagine an innocent kid, among us,
trying to picture a clear blue sky,
but not knowing why
even the skies feel heavy on his heart today.
I feel sad for people like me,
for the child in us
who tries, puts effort
to take everything in stride,
to move forward, to see the world as it is,
while every other cell in our body wants to give up,
while every part of us is adamant to call this blue ‘sad’.
i sat on the cold melting ground,
my hand filled with what would soon be me.
“there is nothing to scavenge here,
there is no hope in such death”,
you said as you placed my hand
on this face that you no longer called yours.
“what do you see?“
(you asked this so often)
“what would you like me to say?“,
were the only words i could say back.
“disappointing isn’t it? we come all this way,
we almost became good enough to live in our dreams
but at the end the only words
we could say with sincerity was sorry“
(it could have been worse, it could have been goodbye)
now that my hands were trapped between yours.
now that you are finally okay with giving up.
my black strands of hair learn to cry,
my shirt learns to turn transparent,
i learn to not love you for your sadness.
“what do you see?“
-a love that would be never returned.
“what do you see?“
-a love that needs nothing in return.
“what do you see?“
-a love who cannot not return back to me.
when saw my skin, i saw only cracks
cracks that would have looked worse
if i could see better.
i wanted to look away
but all i could do was think-
age is creeping up on me
slowly and cruelly
and you are not here.
i think of all the things
i can never have now.
things i meant to do everyday
things i put off, delayed
because you needed time.
all the things i denied myself
because i wanted to wait for you.
but the weight of things i have given up
seems to have increased exponentially
since you learnt to change your mind.
so me and my could-have-beens
we sit at different tables in the same world,
looking at each other with disappointment.
how ridiculous is this
that i am waiting,
even when there is no one to wait for,
even when i know that running away
was the only thing you could be relied upon for.
I wanted to write something about you,
before I start forgetting-
who you were,
who i was with you,
how we lived,
and how we learned how to not live,
how we felt the extremes of helplessness,
with each other.
But I do not want to be the only voice actor
in this otherwise silent movie.
I could never read your lips.
I never moved mine.
But it should have been enough.
You convinced me that I would be enough for you.
But as I suspected you knew too little of yourself.
As I knew, my love also had limitations.
We hated what we saw in each other.
So you covered your eyes with anger,
I covered mine with fear.
And all we did for years is to sing to each other
about the loneliness that we had gifted each other.
If only we could give up on ourselves earlier,
we may not have suffered so bad,
we might not have hated each other so much.
I wish what we had was something shallow.
But it was not, our wounds are proof of that.
Lets just say that we would live on just fine
and try to believe in that as long as we can.
in not so many words,
but maybe just really few.
can you tell me what you see?
when i am waiting for my turn,
when i am suspiciously silent,
when i am creating another corner
in this round room to sit, to sink into,
when i say no and get hated upon,
when i am walking away, always walking away.
can you tell me
what i look like?
is it obvious in my face,
how i miss what i am giving up?
how i feel removed from this life?
when i smile is it convincing?
or all you feel is pity?
i want to drop this act
if you already see the ruin that grows in me.
as you sleep,
I fold myself up
into someone I used to be.
I try to fit into the space beside you
where no longer fit.
But your warmth
now only brings me tears.
I wish it didn’t.
Even though I stopped wanting you,
I don’t think I stopped loving you.
I wish I didn’t.
I know I will give you up someday
but till then
I wanted to gift you few more days-
few more days of ignorance.
You will probably sleep through them
not knowing how much I must have loved you
to stay beside, you even when you were not watching,
withstanding my pain as long as possible.
The night grows deeper,
your sleep lasts longer,
my cries become louder,
but there is no one for me,
no one to care, if I cry.
Please wake up
and see my tears
before I can hide them.
Put me to sleep,
please love me back,
love me again,
before I give up on you.
If you were to find a love
that could make you complete,
I hope you find it with me.
I hope I become better
before you start looking for this love.
So that being myself won’t mean
being cruel and uncaring.
So that loving me won’t be a sacrifice.
I want to have you
without breaking you
and without breaking me.
But how often does life work out like that.
When you became the question of my life,
all I could do was hope
because what I had was not enough for myself.
What if you were to ask me something
that would remind me of my poverty?
I am afraid that this
is what you are meant to do in my life-
remind me again and again
that I am lacking in so many ways.
But all I can do is try
try to become someone who has lesser faults.
Because giving you up
is not something that I would ever want.
But some nights I wonder how long will I last
before I collapse under the weight
of your wants and mine.
we keep walking through these roads
lined with trees of wilted dreams,
laden with fruits
of all the happiness that we do not want.
our hearts are narrow cells
capable of far less than we think of,
but always wanting more than what it can hold.
our greed is not a monster,
but a pitiful child who has lost too much,
who refuses to give up anything anymore.
we wait for this child
to stop wanting,
to stop crying,
to stop hiding,
to stop hoping.
we wait for this road to end.
we wait to be abandoned by this child
whom we have let down too many times.