I regret to tell you this that the blue sky that you died for is not longer blue. It is painting its face with remains of our greed, with the colors of our wars. But it is still sort of fair. It is trying hard not to choose sides, not to become the flags that unites only those whose favorite words are ‘future’, ‘safety’,’money’, ‘greatness’, while they clutch in their hands the fate of people they don’t identify with- ‘burden’ they call them. ‘Fear’ is another favorite word of theirs. They don’t speak much of it, but it is most useful or at least that’s what I have heard from the ones we are no longer allowed to call out or even mock. I have lost every bit of my passive aggressiveness. Life has become more bearable now that my skin is not broken for making too much noise, now that we have learnt to hold each other’s tongue so that we may not lose more friends than we already have. I regret to tell you that your dreams will remains dreams and you might be one of the last to know how dreams felt in your eyes, how tomorrow used to change by effort.
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.
I place broken glass of every color at your feet. I know how you loved the way they looked. I will re-create every beauty that you asked for, I will make them incapable of the danger that you fear. So that you can walk in this unsettling world, walk over every broken glass. I can draw a faceless person to walk by your side, so you don’t have to feel sorry when you forget their names or when they forget you. It is a world you can never be in but I will draw it anyway, because this world that I don’t want for you is the only world that can make you happy.
I want to love you with the sincerity that I don’t have. I want to want you desperately, even when I am fed up with you. I want to look at you as if you are my everything even when I know that you are not.
The only thing that stops me from being the love that I dreamed of being are my own shortcomings. I am not patient. I am not true to my words. I do not hold an endless sea of love in me, if anything you might only find misdirected anger, petty grudges and resentment in my heart. I am too sensitive, not in a good or sweet way, but in an irritating intolerant way. I am someone who wants all sweet things but have only bitterness to give back. In my spare time I make list of what I lack not to improve but so that I have ready excuses when I need them and I only need them with you. I need them so I can stay selfish, so that I can continue to be by your side and not fall apart with shame.
I know you deserve the world
but let my greed win for once,
for this life
close your eyes on everything I do wrong.
My love may not be great or even good enough
but I love you
even when my love for you and want for you
makes me the worst person in my own eyes.
That must count for something.
Make this one mistake for my sake,
let me have you for this life.
All my roads and plans are lined up
side to side.
And on every path I take
I see myself giving up sooner or later
and the moment I give up
I become the same person I was
before the I took these steps.
Being the same person I am
used to comfort me once.
when all I hear around me is
how I need help,
how I leave a bitter taste in every kiss,
how I have a tendency to be painfully unrealistic,
how my efforts make other uncomfortable.
Now I cannot remain the same
when they have shown me how wrong I am.
But my trying hard to change
makes me hate myself that much more.
I ask myself “what do I really want?”
and I feel pathetic with the only answer that I hear
“I am ready to want anything and be anything,
that can make someone truly love me.”
I cannot ask you why your mind is so twisted. I cannot ask why you are not fair. Maybe your situation didn’t allow you to be ideal and that’s why you don’t care. So I will stop now. I will stop asking questions that you need not answer because there is a lot more to us, a lot that we have suffered that we can neither speak of, nor expect to be understood. So you can continue to fight with your darkness and I will continue fighting mine. And if we find each other on opposite sides lets forgive each other for being who we are.
On the other side of this puddle,
where my feet is caught,
is the ocean of joy
in which I wandered
only to be caught in the hook of the sadness
that slips into my wound so effortlessly
that the pain felt like love,
because it felt like the only thing that I could call as mine.
The mountains I must scale
and the currents I must swim against
are all in you.
Love has nothing to do with
me wanting to know the storm you have become.
I find myself the reason
of your flooded cities of hope,
the chaotic streets of your mind.
I refuse to leave you alone in this disaster,
even after knowing
that my departure is the only way to
quieten the commotion in your life.
Love has nothing to do with my selfish wish
to stay by your side.
I remember the conversations
that I had with you
even before we met.
How you always gave me answers
that I wanted to hear.
You always told me the words
that could help me sleep better.
And though you are not
the gentle soul I dreamed of.
But even I am not the pitiful girl
that I thought I was.
And all you are
is so much better
than all you could be.
And I realize at the core of your words, that
pierce and break my delusions,
is the reality-
that I was never comfortable with
until you stood by my side
to face it with me.
Even on this side of the mirror,
in the world of shining surfaces
and sharp and dissolving images,
I have found myself
looking for clues of this fabricated world;
of trying to look for a secret trapdoor
and hidden rooms,
for a way out of here.
Not thinking even once what it meant
to be out of this world.
And even if I make it out
that world that my heart can hold
can it witstand the touch
of a person made of light and glass?
No great escape.
No new world, no new word,
can make me more real
than the image I am.