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“Stranded” – Nayana Nair

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The tissues I have cried into
are my excuses,
to hide the clutter of calls and love I forgot to return.
Sometimes it is too late to clear the mess I made.
It is more difficult to retain my will to clean it all up,
which sort of made me guilty
of creating another sad person.
But what is another tissue in another sea.
Everyone dreams of sailing into a brighter morning
leaving behind their darkness in another’s mind.
What if I am as selfish as them.
What is another ship, another selfish wish
amidst thousand such others-
all stranded on a water-less heart
all looking for a flood, instead of directions.

“Blue” – Nayana Nair

ocean-calm

You once sat on my shore.
You fell in love with the water
in which ships, treasures and lives were lost.
The same ocean is taking you in today.
You told me, the drops of sea reamining on your hands
yearn to touch my eyes again.
If so,
why wasn’t I taken away?
Why am I on the other side of glass
of this body that won’t sink.
Why does it have to be me?
Me, who so loved the boy who played at my shore.
Why did you come this far
only to die by my hands?
Why did you seek the one you cannot have?
Why couldn’t you stay on land
and look at me
and believe the lie of calmness?
Believe that I am most beautiful blue ever.

images

“Island” – Nayana Nair

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I have the map, I have the ship
and I know where to go.
But I end up steering my way back
to the island that I left.
Like I have done
so many times before.
I wonder
whether the map is wrong?
or
do I not want to leave?
or
is the island all that there is?

“REMINDER” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

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Bright light hovering over my head

Lighting me up, making me its own.

Inseparable, as if I am light itself.

The blinding brightness of my being

Leaves me incapable of finding my way

Through my own thoughts, turned strangers.

In this light, I have nothing to write

Nothing that’s mine.

And I fear these blank pages

Will be a reminder

Of a fruitless day.

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The ship sitting at

The edge of my closed window.

It looks out at the wind.

The wind creating

An ever-changing mosaic

Of ruffling leaves.

It looks at the wind that belongs to it,

But never touches its lifeless white sails.

It looks for the ocean

That it was never made for.

My fears were in vain,

I have finally filled this page

With words that are reminder

Of  a fruitless life.

 

 

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