It pains me to say this
but I can live without you.
So remember my cruelty
and forget me as easily
as I have cast you aside.
You look better without my shadow
and my life is easier without your light.
Not everything in our life is about love.
We are more than what our hearts want.
We are more than whom we find.
I will give you company till the night ends
but that it where we part
there is nothing to us more than that.
You always stand there
one word away from me
never leaving, never swaying
away from my shadow.
Shall I take that as your answer
to the question that my life has become?
I continue to hope, so I continue to suffer
for there is a little that can change by your answer now.
Life can be like that sometimes.
‘Too late’ have become the words
that I end up hearing the most.
Once we are done with the ritual of tea,
as I leave the room with his cup and mine,
I leave behind my shadow with him.
That is his favorite part of his evening
and he is all too happy to talk to a quieter me.
He feels my shadow is somehow better than me.
He finds it more understanding
and more similar to the feminine company
he always wanted in his life.
Someone who knows how to listen,
and who knows when not to think.
Someone who would look up to his words
with the certainty of truth
and would be the first one to realize his specialness.
I can understand where he comes from,
it is tiring to impress everyone all the time
fearing when we will falter, when we will fall in their eyes.
I can understand, even when I don’t want to,
for even I have wished for the same things
that only an imbalance of power or naivety of a lover
can give me.
A shadow moves in the clearing ahead
avoiding the columns of lighted air.
It steps on the green
now splattered with red
and looks for a hand that can help,
to get rid of this blood.
It finds my face and looks away
seeing probably I am in a bigger mess.
The orange pink drops of raining summer
falls on the threadbare skin
and crying ribs of the broken umbrella
(the only one you have).
Strangers gather under the dark shadows
All the sorrows waiting on the tables
to be chosen, to be had,
promising you a deeper life than what you have.
To be consumed and to be forgotten,
till you wake up at night
to the sound of voice that you never had.
Tomorrow you can look at yourself in the
to see what you are becoming
to make better decision
to buy smoother skin, captivating life
that is on sale on every street you walk,
for anyone with pockets full and empty hours.
I am in love with the shadows
that you have outgrown.
My heart feels like a sheet of ice.
With restless birds of pain
Making the world look dark.
Imitating my cries.
But as you pass by me,
your shadow on my heart
feels beautiful and painful.
looks like a barren tree,
where my pain can sit and chirp.
Though the ice doesn’t melt.
Though the pain remains.
But you also exist.
My rest, my sanity-
possible only by your existence.
You dip your hand
in my heart,
kiss my poems
as they are.
You hold my pulse
in your wrist.
You hold my shadows
in your mist.
You can swim in the rivers of my night sky
studded with most beautiful words.
But I will be alone in my sadness
and you in yours.
For you cannot bleed with me
but only because of me.
I read my words,
and could only see me, as person
walking on the crowded streets
after spending hours of attention
on a screen that blurred the
alphabets and left in my eyes
the only image of me
looking at this screen forever.
I saw someone
who could not bear life.
I wondered when I became a person
only concerned with knowing
this sadness that breathes with me.
I saw someone who I feared and knew
I would become
or I always was.
I became the living shadow
of the ‘me’ that never was.
I read what I write,
and decided never to read them again.
I see what I am,
and decide not see myself again.
I look at your eyes
and notice the tone of your voice.
Every second, each day
afraid that something I do,
or something I say
might offend you.
I walk around your shadow
and you wonder why my touch,
why my words are so cold.
I wonder how long will I
keep you in my heart,
where you don’t want to stay anyway.