“Always Afraid” – Nayana Nair

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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.

“Screen” – Nayana Nair

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I read my words,
and could only see me, as person
walking on the crowded streets
after spending hours of attention
on a screen that blurred the
alphabets and left in my eyes
the only image of me
looking at this screen forever.
I saw someone
who could not bear life.
I wondered when I became a person
only concerned with knowing
this sadness that breathes with me.
I saw someone who I feared and knew
I would become
or I always was.
I became the living shadow
of the ‘me’ that never was.
I read what I write,
and decided never to read them again.
I see what I am,
and decide not see myself again.

“Pursed Lips” – Nayana Nair

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As I purse my lips,
trying to push back words
that I am afraid are the wrong ones.
I wonder,
stand in awe,
of those gentle souls
who heal so many hearts.
While I fail
to utter any words,
fearing,
not knowing,
what might break them.

“How I spend my seconds” – Nayana Nair

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I look at your eyes
and notice the tone of your voice.
Every second, each day
afraid that something I do,
or something I say
might offend you.
I walk around your shadow
and you wonder why my touch,
why my words are so cold.
I wonder how long will I
keep you in my heart,
where you don’t want to stay anyway.

“Hobby”- Nayana Nair

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My hobby is
to find an unclaimed space in myself
and then try to color it.
Because I am bored.
Because I have trouble
that are taking up much more spaces
and this is the only space left for me
in my own life.
And here I create,
I paint my desperation, self-doubt
on the whites of my eyes.
Again I create a monster,
again a little more space I lost,
again I lost a little of my life,
and I wonder why do I suffocate myself.

“Frail Thread” – Nayana Nair

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These lines that
connect to my heart,
pass through landscapes
devoid of human presence.
This frail thread
passes through valley of flowers
that have no color.
Through balconies overlooking
desolate streets and
sky crowded with stars.
Through stairs leading to floors
that no one visits.
Through the branches of old trees
broken in the storms.
Through abandoned toys in locked rooms
with no owners.
Through the warm sheets
where I rest with my dreams.
and bring loneliness of the world
that lies beside me,
while I wonder
why do I feel so hollow inside.

“Dreaming of Love” – Nayana Nair

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If we were not here,
if we were not conveniently together,
but lived in places far apart
with only a bleak memory,
our companion,
the proof of our time together.
If we could not hear
each other’s voice everyday
but carry each other’s whispers
in the folds of our skin.
Do you think
we could have known each other better?
Do you think
we could have loved better,
By being far away?

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These arms that ache
by holding each other tighly,
in some other time,
in some other place,
may have yearned for a mere touch.
In that world,
I imagine myself
sitting in my backyard.
Looking at the never ending rows
of trees that I cannot name.
And wonder if our separation
will be as long as the life of these trees.
Will these silent friends of mine, these trees,
in this lifetime
know my happiness to have found you at last
as they have known my long wait?
I feel in some other world,
we exist like that,
our love exists like that.
I feel they must be dreaming of love
that we have right now.

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“Every time”- Nayana Nair

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Every time I left a place,
running late to catch my train,
with so much luggage
which made me wonder
do I really own so much
and wondered why
I thought I had nothing
or maybe someone always had
something more than me.
Every time I left
it was with so much haste
and panic,
always afraid of leaving something behind.
There were so many places like this
which I found and left,
with so much ease,
with no emotions to account for.
The only thing I remember is
how it rained,
every time I left.