“Is this what this distance, this decision means?” – Nayana Nair

With my back to the my cold family namethe metallic alphabets printing hard on my clothes,I standwith my feet half out of my pretty shoes –with my painted nails still hidden in the skin of another animal,my hands revolving the beautiful replica of Saturnaround the plastic heart on my elaborate key chain- a stage ofContinue reading ““Is this what this distance, this decision means?” – Nayana Nair”

“I don’t want to be right anymore” – Nayana Nair

I wonder‘me being right’at what point of time it became synonymousto finding out that his heart is empty-my name washed out by the waves of the other girl.The girl whom he swore is not his type.“I was right”, I said as my hand trembled with anger and then fearas I waited for the reply, forContinue reading ““I don’t want to be right anymore” – Nayana Nair”

“What I Remember (10)” – Nayana Nair

I want to write about the boring, about all that is insignificant, about the trust that lasts, about the promises that are kept, about the things we don’t have to beg from god. I belive there must be some things in life that goes as we wanted to, that didn’t take our effort, our prayersContinue reading ““What I Remember (10)” – Nayana Nair”

“All the talk about survival” – Nayana Nair

I walking around this planettalking about survivalas if I actually lived to survive.I didn’t.There are many who dobut they are not the ones who are filling the worldwith papers filled reeking of envy and tears.The ones who are really desperate, who really fear extinction-disappear as they fearwithout leaving a trace of the hurt that hadContinue reading ““All the talk about survival” – Nayana Nair”

“Shallow Hearts” – Nayana Nair

While the world can preach of greater pain and complain of shallow hearts that never look out of themselves. They never see the the windows of their heart that were nailed shut from outside.

“Strangely” – Nayana Nair

Strangely, her heart no longer sounded like an empty room, an empty stage, an empty world with only her voice. Strangely, for once a voice came into this emptiness and filled it with warmth greater than her, greater than her sorrow. This poem, that she held in her hands. This poem, that she holds inContinue reading ““Strangely” – Nayana Nair”