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“Last Everything” – Nayana Nair

There are bouts of tears,
phone calls,
consolation, advice,
and it ends.

The river stops
and flows again.

There are missed calls, busy tone,
letters never penned,
the sky
that didn’t shatter like glass.

The river stops
and flows again.

There is me,
there is you,
there are our days together
and the days we will never have.

Nothing ends
even if I break.
The river stops
and flows again,
even if I lose
my last breath,
my last love to it.

“Away from the City of Saints” – Nayana Nair

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so the saint i read about
walked this land,
looked at this river, looked at this sky,
and stood where I stand.

in the cases of glass there are letters,
there are feelings i cannot understand.
they say he made this place with love
here his everything ends, where his nothing began.

but the glass turned into mirrors
his writing became face of mine.
i was pricked by the bitterness
that were not supposed to be in his words.

how can he say the things we say?
how can his cruelty be pardoned for his principle?
why can i not call him hero
like i used to, like everyone still does?
why his truth makes me shrink away from every other truth?
why does his life disappoint me so much?

i came here seeking nothing
but i left losing a lot
and doubting a lot.
on my way back
i left the what he once gave me
and finally picked up what i should have.

“Keeping alive the happy me” – Nayana Nair

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My day to day wanderings
take me to places and people
(and websites)
who have never known a happy me.
I ask them “am i fine today?”
and they answer “yes”.
So I search the map
for a river in a distant city to cry by.
So that they continue answering ‘yes’.
So I can continue calling this hiding a “fresh start”.

“seine” – Nayana Nair

Sit here and cry your eyes out.
I know you don’t want to look weak,
that you don’t want my strength
to be the only things that keeps you standing.
But if only you would cry,
if only you would let your weakness show,
I could find in myself the courage
to let you see my tears as well.

This love of mine, it is not much I know.
It cannot do anything.
It cannot stop you from closing your eyes on me.
It cannot do anything but suffer
thinking of the day you heart will forget to beat.
It terrifies me, to think you are already half gone,
that I will get to see the years that you won’t.

I want to tell you that I love you.
I want to hear back the same words, I guess.
But these words, they refuse to come out of me.
I only want to remember the moments
when you said you hated me.
I want to believe that even in this pain
your heart will be lighter
by leaving me behind.

the lights rush past us
the river drowns our image
this air that i can’t breathe
this life you can’t live
your hand that i can’t leave
all make me cry
how did i turn out to be this pitiful?

“How people live” – Nayana Nair

I sat there crying.

It hurt to know,
how people live,
how they smile,
how they could look at each other,
how they felt welcome wherever they went,
how they could sing along
and not be reminded of all the sadness
that song carried in itself.
How my desolate riverside
was their ‘beautiful view’,
their ‘venue for celebration’.

I saw it and cried
for I realized
that this life could never be mine.
I cried because I realized
something must be wrong with me
to not want this life.
I cried because I couldn’t understand
how to set things right.

“Trade Myself” – Nayana Nair

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Will this river
that runs between us
loose its taste of mistrust,
if I take up your blood
and let go of mine?

I wish I could do that.

But a part of my mind,
that is yet to be corrupted by love,
rationalises and prefers
my loveless and homeless state
than to entrust my dreams to you.
It tells me
that if I can easily give them away
trade myself for a hope with an expiration date,
that if I don’t care
you won’t too.

“Hiding” – Nayana Nair

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images

The noise of the crumpled tissues walked upon
fills me up again.
Without the colors of reasons or pain
that once made it unbearable,
I envy that me who could be so passionately
sad for the someone else
or even for myself.
Now the the rivers of concern run beneath the surface of my heart
almost lost, in hiding.
(Or am I the one in hiding.)

And now I can finally be almost happy in life.

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