There are too many thought on my mind today there is too little love in my heart but my eyes are focused only on you dear my ears hear only your voice. But it doesn’t matter, I know that too.
Knowing is also a sort of poison. It only makes me angry at your smile and your assurances. It doesn’t change the fact that today you live in hurt and tomorrow you may not be with me to get better. It doesn’t change the fact that you won’t let me come close, that you say I have no right to know that part of you.
All that I am allowed to do now is to smile as if I do not see, is to talk of a tomorrow that will never be, think of names we would never get to use, plan a journey we will never begin. This is all we ever did, when we had so much time. This is all we ever did. This is what we will never do. That’s all there is left to it.
You will say that you are fine. I will say “I know”, when I don’t. And I will hate the sight of your pain and I will hate myself for it, as will you. Maybe I will burn this place down if you don’t let me in. Maybe there is no place left to burn, Maybe that’s what you’re hiding. Maybe that’s what you mean.
i try not to think about the places that are lost and evaporated only leaving clouds of colorless memories floating on my not so blue sky
places that are lost not only to me but to this world now no one will ever know the sweetness of the light that was never beautiful enough to be captured and framed light that is only beautiful only in its death beautiful only when it rises up without a reason on the surface of our eyes
how my eyes miss seeing everything that now cannot be seen my eyes wake up from the dream of yesterday into this new day that i must write feeling that again i have lost something, something meaningful in that dream that will never return to me a dream that i have no right to dream again
i try not to think about such losses losses with name or reason or heartache but no matter how much try some days that is all i can think about
I wonder ‘me being right’ at what point of time it became synonymous to 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 fear as I waited for the reply, for the apology, a missed call from those whom I should not forgive. But the way my heart is breaking if only they would tell me that they still love me I could have held them close to my chest and thought of them as my family, as the blood that I couldn’t part with. I would have learnt to pretend that I was born with a dagger on my back.
I was right, I understood as I saw few more pictures not meant for my eyes. (these days there are so many things that are not meant for my eyes), as I try to digest the unfamiliar rage in his eyes, as he breaks and breaks and breaks every moment we had When I ask him “if should I stay around? if he’d change his mind?” he tells me he doesn’t know his heart and walks out into the night.
When I switch on the TV I almost expect to find my name in red, my body in red laying on the carpet that he loved but had to ruin for a good cause, for a greater love. This me, my death must be side effect of his love. His love is all that matters now. His love is not our love. Our love is an obstacle to the happiness he can almost reach.
She calls me up again to tell me how to gracefully give up. I hear him behind her, I feel his despair in her voice. (Must be true love.) I hear him hum a song in the background, a song that I have never heard. I hear the ruffle of his clothes that he moved from our life to her home one betrayal at a time. I hear what I don’t want to hear, what I always knew- they don’t want my forgiveness even if I gave it for free, I must mend my life by myself. No past love will do it for me.
matter, substance, meaning… as my vocabulary expanded with such words, i knew, i had an inkling that this is how i would be disillusioned, with such small words i would be driven to despair.
i would find there is another face behind every smile, and that some of those upturned lips are just empty coffins. a smile so sad, a wordless lie so easily becomes the most normal thing.
but do i even want to know who lives behind such elaborate masks? do i care to know how they breathe? do i want to know who breathes in me? or whether anyone really care about me?
i knew that now, given that i have learnt to ask all the questions whose answers can’t be verified, living and trusting was bound to become harder. now that i knew that i am not capable of knowing myself, seeing my reflection was bound to get painful and confusing. confusion is such a small word for what life does to us. all the small words that are easily said than meant- i hope i forget them before i forget myself.
I dreamt of a cold day, of a gray sky, of your warmth dissolving in air, of your smile being erased.
I lay on your bed surrounded by, covered in all the clothes you won’t ever wear. I saw myself crying, refusing to eat or sleep waiting for a new world to be created or to leave the world that I am in.
But eventually I woke up, I cleaned up my room, I threw out everything that mattered to me. I went to shop for a stomach that knows hunger a heart that can forget, a dream, a life without you. I thought I loved you more than this.
I tell myself stories about why I threw away all that I had, or why everything was taken away from me. How I was too weak, will always be too weak to carry the weight of the gifts that I had. Or how I was never quite convinced that I had something to be proud of. How I was always trying to gauge how much deep my feelings ran for everything that I could only sort-of-love. I can list all similar attempts where I sought a better quantitative understanding of my specialness and used these unreliable results to decide how and when to give up. But if I had to give one consolidated story of why I was never a failure at anything, why I never succeeded, why I had nothing to show for the years I lived or for the talents that people remember me for. If I had to be concise and true I would say I never made those decisions, I was never aware of how I felt about all the things that bother me now. I drifted away from what I was, from what I treasured, the way dear friends lose touch, lose each others name, lose a happiness they could have had. Only to be reminded of this loss when it no longer matters.
I hold my fist close to my heart, I hold your hand tighter than ever. How long has it been since we last saw each other? How long before we meet again? These few hours that separates our periods of separation, these hours have become minutes, have become question marks that we pretend we can’t see, have become the silhouette of the better women of your stories, have become the words I never got to hear. They remind me of your skin that bloomed and withered without knowing my skin. I have told myself numerous times that it doesn’t matter. I have tried my best not to be bothered, but it is becoming more difficult to feel that I am still loved by you. And again you kiss me with caution, hold me close, only to let go. Again all I see is you moving towards something I cannot understand, leaving me in a life that I cannot accept.
Even though we know we will end up being disappointed in ourselves we still want find that same mirror again and again, expecting to see something different. Hoping that it will work out one day. Hoping one day our faults would be too insignificant to matter. Relying on the surety of the forgetfulness of the world than the forgiveness that we couldn’t dare to ask.
But even if the world forgets,
even if our skin grows anew,
even if our sins become untraceable,
these eyes of ours
remain the same,
always lingering on the spot
where we have buried our past.
Passing of time does nothing to reduce our fear
of being seen for what we are.
Even when that image of what we were
exists nowhere in this world,
it is the only way we can ever see ourselves.
We believed (or wanted to)
that this world where we won’t be staying for long
will be always there,
will the stay the same
even when we leave.
That our eyes have captured something eternal.
But even the stars that we believed in
were in fact dying,
so far away that we didn’t even know.
Would it have mattered even if we knew?
Would we have cared for an end that we won’t live to see?
So even when I see that we are breaking,
even when I know it will come apart,
I know we don’t need a forever,
just bit more time.
We just need to vanish into dust
before we watch our love die.