“i was born like this”, I lie,
when I really want to say
“the normal ones, the sane ones
are surprisingly excellent at
breaking anyone without any guilt whatsoever.
i no longer have strength
to leave them, or beg them,
or handle the repercussion of wanting them.
i fear them only when i cry
though i am not exactly sure why it should be so.
the positivity, the kindness, the unity, the charity, the world peace
that they talk about
looks so beautiful when put in action
there are holes in me though i have never seen a bullet in my life
and i am not allowed to say it is their doing
“it is a result of my negative thinking and bad karma” i parrot
like i have been taught to.
this burnt skin, this distrustful heart,
the layers of clothes that are prerequisite of proving my modesty
if god-forbid i let loose an animal in someone just because i exist,
the logs of missed calls and blocked calls and blocked memories
that are the only things protecting me now.
this is how i was born.“
Though absurd, it sounds like truth the more I say it.
This is how I hurt whatever is left of my heart.
there is a land of promise
that only promises an end.
end to everything.
a painless but a sure end.
i wondered if i should dream to be there.
if i would be able to say this aloud
if i can say,”i dream of an end”.
if you ask “end to what?”
what shall i say? what i should i answer?
how does one begin to answer such questions?
the questions that do not mean anything
till they have an answer.
then those questions become regrets,
become point of no return.
an end surely is better
than the unbearable stretch of time,
the long life
that lies after the such questions.
how can you look at me the same way
when you know that my monstrosity and my weakness are the same?
how will i be able to pretend or play dumb?
surely an end is better
the endless days of pretend.
an end is better
than carrying the burden of this life,
this life that i don’t want,
than loving you and loving myself
with closed eyes and closed heart.
I would have called out your name,
if I was sure my voice won’t reach you.
She left the door ajar
and closed the curtains as she left,
like she did so many things
that I didn’t ask her to do.
Like so many things I didn’t notice.
Did I fear darkness of the room?
Did I fear drifting into sleep
no longer be sure
that this body would continue breathing?
I feared a lot.
I knew the names of imaginary insects
that crawled inside my mind.
But only she knew how to close my eyes
and close my heart
to the pain and paranoia
that only I could feel.
I woke up to curtains soaking the sunlight
and the sweet humming from next room.
And I didn’t want this humming
to go farther
Even as we wait we wonder,
could we ever know you more
than what you have left behind?
Knowing that they were the parts of you
that you most hated
and least loved.
We are not sure whom we are waiting for.
We are always afraid,
that your weakness would be more beautiful than you.
We are afraid
for we are yet to know the one,
whom we already love.
There are trails of stardust
that are possibly tears,
frozen in the cold space.
Frozen despite the sun
and thousand other burning stars.
And I am not sure
if they are yours or mine.
The trees don’t whisper,
don’t console me with lies
that they have heard too many times.
They tell me that this sorrow won’t go away
atleast not without me.
That there will be days I will look at
the empty chair opposite me
and my coffee would taste of tears.
Days when I would wake up
with a blanket of despair over me.
That I will stop at certain words
and certain names,
and feel too broken in this happy world.
That I would stop taking certain roads.
Stop going to certain places.
So that my ache in my chest
won’t eat me up.
There will be day
when I would have given up
on all that I was.
And sure enough
the sorrow went away,
taking away everything we were.
He has eyes with stare of cruelty
which runs with rivers of pain.
A smile so calculated
afraid of betraying himself, again.
His care and love are
wrapped in the covers of indifference.
He looks at this world
as if it is always within his reach
but can never grasp.
He is two person.
I am never sure which one he is at a time.
And I love them both.