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“bedtime stories of what you used to be” – Nayana Nair

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Even as I want to cut out your stories from my skin,
even as I want to walk away from what you will always be,
I end up recalling all the time
you tried to be better than what you are.
When without any calculations,
without the thought of consequences,
without even knowing it yourself
you placed my broken body in your heart
and tried to do anything,
say anything that could make me feel better.
How sincere your words felt to me,
you’d never know.
And that’s why I stay
so that you may know
how you have held me together with your love.

Now that you are breaking,
now that your cracks are the only things I see,
now when I feel nothing like love for you,
I want to be better than what I am.
So even though I feel like crying every time I see you like this
and feel wronged by this life from time to time.
But it seems you are the one thing in my life
that I cannot run away from, even when I want to.

“Save Yourself” – Nayana Nair

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when i looked into you
i saw all the stories,
all the words, all the songs,
all the things that make love appear
more noble than it is.

*

and though i wanted to mock it,
to ridicule your hopes,
to tell you sad tragic tales
that would make break your heart,
make you see clearer.
but I couldn’t.

*

so, take your innocence with you.
keep it close to yourself,
for as long as possible.
try to live the life
that we all have failed to live.

“Sweet Nothings” – Nayana Nair

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i crawl into another embrace,
scratch the surface of my fake love
to find something true.
hopes.
hopes.
is this what they call hope?
it must be.

the coffee turns cold as my story ends.
again i am wearing a skin i have stolen.
the one breathing beside me
has a knack for sad stories recited by happy girls,
of being a knight to one he doesn’t have to save.

me,
i love drowning the world in sadness
(the only way i can take anyone’s breath away)
i love leaving loose ends,
leaving people behind-
i call it the fear of being left behind.
i have a list of similar innocent motivation
for every mess i make, for the mess i have become.

when he leaves
i throw away the coffee he never drinks.
i get over my urge to be seen for what i am.
i dip my fingers into another color
that he might like, or at least remember.

“Fictional Friends” – Nayana Nair

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i break another glass today,
the girl with blue highlights in her hair
walks over it without bleeding
but tells me
not to try such things at home on my own,
that it took her years of invisibility
to even try such tricks.
but she has no suggestions for what else i should do
instead of breaking my smooth skin
and wrecking my good name.
so she tells me a story about a girl and wolf,
another about a girl and her impossible dream,
about a girl and her sad prince,
a girl and the dark world,
a girl and whatever wants to break her down.
she tells me i don’t have to be that girl.
that i just have to be person who happens to be a girl
and not hate herself for it.


it is night already.
i find myself in strange blue rooms.
i hold hands with another new stranger
who promises to sing me to sleep.
he walks like heartache that knows how to smile.
he pretends to be the real deal.
he is too drunk on his own sad story like me
to even see anyone else.
so no we are not in love.
i just want to borrow his songs,
his voice, his awareness of all that is wrong.
i look out of his window, at my own home
at my friends, at my love, at broken frame of my family,
at myself who is trying too hard
to be indifferent to it all.


the battery of my phone dies
and i am alone again in this life
that i can’t find my way around.
i am somewhat lost, tired,
and yet somehow happy
to have lived through this despair,
through another dark night.

“Another Birdless Cage” – Nayana Nair

please don’t ask me how my friend is doing.
we broke up.
we broke up the most decent way friends can break up.
without deceit, without betrayal,
without cruel words or bloody knife on our backs,
without stories to hurt each other with,
without attempts to patch up things,
without deleting each other’s number that we never bothered to memorize.
i do not remember her till someone says her name
and when the sound of her name finds me through a stranger’s lips,
i do not feel bitterness. i not miss her.
a part of my heart is glad that life didn’t turn her my enemy
but a part of me wonders how she turned out to be nothing in my life.
when i see facebook notifications with her name,
when i get a reminder of her birthday,
when she calls me up once in a blue moon
to ask a favor for “her friend”
without bothering to ask how i have been,
what is it that am i supposed to feel?
i think it should hurt in some way.
i am waiting for it to hurt.
i am waiting to realize the meaning of this loss.
i am waiting for the day I miss her.
i want to miss her so much.

“Craft” – Nayana Nair

the broken stories that you lived on
were never actually broken.
these stories are not pieces of a whole,
but a whole that is meant to look like a piece.
they are made so.
they are crafted to be faulty, to look like us,
to look like the things we want to be but aren’t.
so that it can fit into our heart,
so that we can nibble on it
with our tiny dry mouth
that has given up on food, love, and life.

“The End of My Sad Story” – Nayana Nair

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I want to tell myself
that my sad story had ended,
that now I can write a better one,
where I won’t be suffering again.

But I have known myself more than anyone.
In the waters that choked me,
even when it hurt,
even when I was about to loose myself
the only thing on my mind
my only sadness was for the love I never found.

And there lies my failure,
there lies the source of my misfortune.
That even after everything ends,
after I have cried my last tears,
nothing would change.
I would walk into every new day
and I would only see the broken yesterday.
I would end up in front of doors
that have never opened for me.

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