You who took so much space in me
you who created stories in me,
put up grand shows of light and shadows in me
you who spent your nights naming every star,
trying to claim my sky-
at the end,
you were too easy to forget.
Or maybe sitting in this world
where everything is yours,
I find it hard to realize your lacking.
Maybe my heart is no longer here with me
to even want you back.
would have flowers in blue,
a storm of sunshine,
a road that runs like the soft song
that you once made me hear,
a sparrow that never stays still.
i do not know what it would be like
to live in such a heaven.
whether i would really be at peace there.
but through the walls of stone
that i could never scale
it looked so beautiful-
the world that you lived in.
but i cannot break what i am
nor can i chase away the shadows that i depend on
it is too late for that.
so before i close my eyes for the last time
let me hold you close.
become my last memory,
become my heaven.
A stranger told me
that I am capable of living better,
if only I throw away my thoughts and assumptions
about what I deserve and what I should not want.
The sun tiptoed around me
stealing a bit of my shadow for every minute
that I stood at the door created by these words.
But I didn’t have the courage to go inside.
So I went back to living my life in the worst ways.
But, for some time I was happy just by thinking
that there exists a door that one day I can open,
that I probably looked more human that I thought.
That in itself was a happiness, a relief
I never thought I could feel-
knowing that the what I had lost was not myself,
but the only heart to face myself, to comfort myself.
I have got something against
most words and most sentences
that proclaim that everything is achievable,
that dreams come true,
that life is perfect picture if you want it to,
that everything is in our hands,
and happiness is ours if we have to courage
to step out of the shadows of our fear.
Because I may have lived just over 20 years
but I have feel like I have lived a lot
and I think it is unfair
that I feel so old and weary already.
I feel I am disappointed in many things,
many small things,
things that I could have easily ignored,
things that I could have got used to
if I was aware of their existence
before reality crawled into my world without any warning.
So when I cross my path with these filtered picture of this world
the fun, the bright and the confident who deserve the world.
I am sad, because that is the world I have never seen,
that world doesn’t exist for me.
In the world I see not everything is achievable-
somethings are and somethings aren’t.
Dreams come true, but not always
mostly we end up changing, skipping and down-grading
till we reach the ones we can achieve.
Life is not perfect.
Yes, it is the biggest gift,
but it is not perfect and it all doesn’t depend all on me.
My life is more in the hands of others
than I would want it to be
and helplessness comes in all forms
dressed in the form of situations that no one else can see.
Helplessness is as real as our dreams.
That out of the shadows that we hide in
it is not all warm and sunny.
The rains, the storm,
the climate of life is not same for all.
So all these quotes meant to motivate
don’t mention the subtext
don’t mention the terms and conditions,
the cases where they don’t apply.
I would have coped better with these small hardships
if I expected them when I chose my dream.
I may have taken it as my grand adventure,
if I didn’t feel duped or betrayed half of the time.
Maybe then I would not feel obligated to always have an excuse
to give, for the times when I fell short of the default way of things.
It would have helped or perhaps consoled me to know
that everyone has to work hard, has to sacrifice a lot,
that many struggle for years and sometimes for their whole life
to get what to they want.
Or maybe I am just bitter cause someone else is living a better life.
I couldn’t help but to love you,
that from your darkness pushed me away,
tried to save me from my choices.
When I told you that I loved you
for your selfless honestly,
you made up your mind to leave.
You told me as you packed your bag
that all honesty is not selfless,
that while you pushed me away
you knew that I would love you even more.
As a goodbye you braided my hair
with the flowers of your tear.
You left me with a letter,
when you robbed me of your shadow,
with ink dipped in concern,
saying that you wanted me to be better than
your second chance,
a daily pill to forget what you are,
a shoulder to bear your burden.
That only by rejecting the luxury
of being loved unconditionally,
could you ever learn to love
and see me as a human
who can bleed by loving too much.
That your leaving might be the only true gesture
that shows what you feel for me,
that it is the only thing you can do for me.
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.