Straight out of my Mind's oven

It is 4 AM again, and I am here making pizza as an excuse for my sleeplessness

I admit it is beautiful to bake, yet the mind feels like a pizza base poked by forks

I would believe that helps in baking it to a firmness when it's pizza

This mind is poked by the forks of your thoughts and longing

Would you like some pizza? I could send it over and your office isn't far away

Would it seem acceptable to send food, when you seem to not want my presence itself

It is a dilemma I am dealing with and it makes my mind sear on this grill of your absence

You probably have drowned my thoughts anyway, like cheese does the sauce

Well, as the pizza bakes, I watch it with a keen eye drawing parallels to my soul 

Unlike the cheese that is being toasted in the heat, my heart ebbs fading beats 

When the oven rings in completion of its twenty-minute cycle and 180 degrees

I stand there contemplating if I have the will to eat it alone this time again.

I hope You don't resent me

The updraft from my balcony scatters my exhaled smoke all over my face 

  - and I think you would have laughed

But you aren't here to laugh now, I can always dream wide awake

 Especially considering it is 20 minutes past the witching hour 

Are you thinking of me, in resentment or even in disgust, couldn't be love I guess

 - else you would reach out in some way

But then when did I give you a good enough reason to not feel so

  Especially considering that I have been a  wretched inconsiderate lover

For all the years I have been so broken and lost as I was trying to be good

- you ended up feeling this love I have is collateral 

But then when could I recognise my own worth until now and it's so late

 Especially considering you are walking away eradicating me from your heart

When I look at life now there is nothing left for another breath than pain

- you haven't caused it, this is my own fate

But then when was it that life looked kindly upon me as I did upon all

 Especially when things got better, the universe would conspire my downfall

A thought about Midnight deliveries

I sometimes wonder why

Why do these midnight deliveries come.wrapped different

Like in poly bags, sometimes in paper bags, and sometimes cloth bags

I guess it is the changing moods of the delivery guys

Or maybe I order from different vendors

I mean, see, I ask it because

I often wonder why does your memory come wrapped different

Sometimes in haze, sometimes in daze, sometimes in a faze, sometimes in a maze

I guess it is like the ever changing moods of your love

Or maybe I have too much of alcohol in my blood

Think logically,

Who equates memories to groceries being delivered at midnight, or at 4 AM

Some are asleep, some getting to the gym, some jogging early, some pointlessly awake

I guess it is , maybe my subscription of anxiety being renewed

 Or maybe I am shopping wilfully at the wrong portals for love

Explanation:

The poet is grappling with the pain of their loved one leaving them, and their struggle to overcome the resulting depression. The poem begins with a sense of confusion, as the poet wonders why these "midnight deliveries" of memories from their past love come wrapped in different ways, like poly bags, paper bags, or cloth bags. This may symbolize the varied emotions and experiences associated with the memories, ranging from foggy and unclear (haze) to bewildering (maze), or even overwhelming (faze). The changing moods of the "delivery guys" could represent the unpredictable nature of the memories, as they come to the poet at different times and in different forms.

The poet further reflects on the unpredictability and inconsistency of their loved one's love, comparing it to the changing moods of their memories. Sometimes it feels distant and detached (daze), sometimes it feels fleeting and transient (faze), and sometimes it feels complex and confusing (maze). The poet wonders if their own state of mind, perhaps influenced by alcohol, is affecting the way they perceive and experience these memories.

The poet then questions the logical connection between memories and groceries being delivered at odd hours of the night or early morning. Memories are not something that can be easily ordered or controlled, unlike groceries from online portals. The poet may feel a sense of helplessness or lack of control in dealing with their memories of their lost love. The mention of anxiety being renewed could indicate that the poet is struggling with anxiety in the aftermath of the breakup.

In the closing lines of the poem, the poet reflects on the possibility that they are looking for love in the wrong places or seeking it from the wrong sources, akin to shopping at the wrong portals for love. This could suggest a sense of disillusionment or frustration with their past relationship and the choices they have made. Overall, the poem conveys a sense of longing, confusion, and emotional turmoil as the poet grapples with the aftermath of their loved one leaving and the challenges of moving on from the pain of lost love.

Uncoated

Do you know it takes a ton of things to shave my head 

A twin blade, 

  I will use it to rummage through first

   Thick as some foliage growing unhinged and dauntlessly

    On the fertile scalp, as if nothing and no one can ever remove it

      And some of it does come right off, especially the sides

A classic razor,

    The one you gifted, knowing my love of being an environment conservationist

      Twin blades are bad, plastic, not recycled, bad, bad, bad, I often have said

        But the classic razor is a double-edged one figuratively and literally

           It may help for the back and center 

            But then I always manage to have my pinky cut on it

A shampoo,

    In between the lush going away and the baldness appearing

        the razor is caught and often chokes like I usually do

         The shampoo helps to make it slide right off

            I always wonder between the washes on if I can shampoo my heart

               Then continue shampooing my hair washing away the cuts

                 It hurts, not just the process, but the scalp, the hand, and the heart

A hurt,

     What a surprise that is not even one, I love my hair

        I love my hair, I love my hair, I love my hair

         I love my hair because you love my hair too

          Then I think, if you are not here, what is it here to

            All it does is taunt me of wanting to entangle in yours

             All I have is that exact thing missing from my life 

               So a hurt is quite the need to eradicate all beauty

A shower,

       So the scalp can hurt when it's shaved, quite often by the self

          I advise no one should undertake this sordid deed

            The water can help you mask the tears of this undoing 

               Yet the mirror will taunt you and reflect the redness of your eyes

                  you can take as long as you want, standing in the water

                    unless someone you know, like I do reprimands you in memories

 A mirror,

         A mirror is vital we all agree, it is self-explanatory 

           You can't always guide you hands on something so sensitive as a scalp blind

             Besides it helps you to remind you of all that your worth is, for you, for them

               And for being rid of something so precious as my own hair, it's a force

A regret,

       That could be subjective, not to me though for I am pragmatic

         Nothing stirs the mind's cauldron like a ladle of regret and loss

            And mine was thankfulness to my genes while I curse my fate 

             For in my life, to love and forever fail is the only permanence.

A wail from my dark confinement

It isn't just you, 

  trust me when I proclaim

You and me both have tried

  To be rid of me, 

    You have been able to

I have failed though

For I have been searching

 For the me I hope to be rid of

  It is no where to be found

I have searched ways

  In my profound pragmatism

  In my insolent breaths

The me is not to be found 

The curse I bear is to be alive

 Devoid of me

Or is the me that I seek already dead

  In the search of your loving words

Maybe it is and I like you will never know

For it feels like a dead existence

 To be in the absence of you

And when I was told of love

 Was I deaf to my soul's fears

 I was and this is me now

In search of a me so long gone

Weeping in silent tears 

 And

Wanting to wail

Wishing to wilt as I sleep tonight

Wishing the universe be kind for once

 To grant me this only wish somehow

Kaash tum thoda aur ruk jaate

Diwali khatm hone tak to ruk jaate 

Haan par uske baad mai kehta Janamdin aa raha hai

Par yeh bhi sahi hai ki jab tumhe jaana tha

To tumhaare kadmon ko hum kaise rukaa paate

Ye maana ki lakhon galtiya kar li hai maine 

Ye saari to tumko pataa thi na

Par yeh bhi sahi hai ki tumhe teherna nahi tha

To tumhaare dil ko hum apni aur kaise manaa laate

Tumhaare dil ko hum kaise jeet paayenge

Jab tumhe mere dil se hi shikayat hai

Par yeh bhi sahi hai ki shikayat ke sivaa tha hi kya

To tumhara haat hum kaise pakkad lete

Ab Diwali umad kar goonj rahi hai dil ke taano mein

Ye virah to mujhe ab daraati hai

Par yeh bhi sahi hai ki mai chirag aur tum lauh thi

To tumhaare saath ye diwali bhi roshan kar jaate

Speaking about me, I rather pretend

Between me and you, there is the storm

Of a billion drops of my soul's sad tears

They will drown and drench my garden flowers

And vanish again at dawn like your intermittence 

I have flogged my mind to become tone deaf

For it has often been at war with my heart

Yet this deaf speaks in muted tones too

And this tone deaf mind still calls out to you

What good is a path that leads nowhere

Its just sand, gravel and cobblestones

Pretty to the eye, momentary musing for a heart

We walk on this path, tearing each other apart

I have now come to forage the shards of my heart

I have some glue, made from the lids of my eyes

They don't need to exist anymore and why so

For my eyes have now died as I silently hope to

Coffee, not again

It's the coffee, maybe

That un-stills me, 

This weird hurt that renders my innards

Tender

Or is it the nature of my being?

Is it my tender?

Why does this caving feel like a craving?

Why is the sky all hazy purple?

Is it the mind that has stabbed itself?

Or has my soul finally broken down

I won't know, 

Not that it matters. 

But that I yearn for her

In the swirling shadows of this dark, 

Like coffee spilt on the clouds

Gloomy yet stark

I have yet to hark 

I will not harp

These needles of your absence are sharp

Yet your voice echoes

Curls me into a ball

Ravages me in a thousand cuts

And then you gently salt these wounds

I hope that I am never found

For the love I have is profound

I wilt

Like the fallen basil leaf in this October heat

Partially eaten by worms of your hate

I lie to myself as I lie on the ground

This drudgery weighs a million pounds

Coffee then?

Is all of it coffee, 

Does it do this to my steely nerves?

What was in it I sought and it was a hound

The hound of your longing awaiting to bite

Sink its teeth into my soul, 

 pinning me to the ground, 

Beseeched by my own heart

In madness unbound

Tripping, tipping, 

In a wretched living

And this universe was supposedly all giving

And that God, all forgiving

So I heard, so I have

Then why does he not hesitate

Why does his face not smile gently?

Upon this dilapidated soul of mine,

Why is it subject to such painful prongs?

And when it sinks deep,

Does my maker weep

I bet he does; I bet he smiles.

In tears of joy

As I finish my twelfth coffee in four hours,

What have I done to drown so deep

Is it my bearings that I forgot to keep? 

I fall asleep every five minutes

Wake up to a hallucination of your presence

Leave me be, for in your torment of gone

I cannot raise my voice anymore

To call out, it hurts

My innards, it claws like your nails

Fresh out of a session from the salon

And sleep, I can't

For it will let this pass by

Rob me off from the reaches of loneliness now

Don't ask me for what I feel, or have been

Knowing 

Knowing that I am fading, 

 being rendered inert

My being, my existence, as we 

Coffee then?

I ask myself, 

And here we make another cup

I fill one for you too and sit and sip

Adjacent, diagonally, from your cup

You are not here, so I mimic

Spill a spoonful each time I take a sip

And then pretend to talk

Hear your voice, often of hate filled words

Hurled at me like beautiful golden magnolias

Ah, Coffee again

Maybe I will add some magnolia flowers to it

You don't worry about this

It's me and me

Suno na Maa

Maa, suno na tumse ek baat kehni thi

Mai rooth chuka hoon is kadar ki ab maan jaata nahi

Hamesha to khud ko manaana pada hai mujhe

Tumko kabhi bataya nahi mere roothne ki wajeh

Maa, suno na tumse ek baat kehni thi

Mai kho chuka hoon is kadar ki ab laut ta nahi

Mere mann ne to prem karna seekh liya tha sabse

Par prem paana raas nahi aaya mujhe kisise

Maa, suno na tumse ek baat kehni thi

Mai ghut chuka hoon is kadar ki ab chayn aata nahi

Maine to sambhala apnon ko apna lahu jalaakar

Par sab tod hi to gaye meri rooh mere zar par

Maa, suno na tumse ek baat kehni thi

Mai toot chuka hoon is kadar ki ab sambhalta nahi

Tum ho to jee raha hoon, sochkar ke tumhe

Dekhna na pade mere ast ke baad ki subeh

I will take one in a shade of purple, please

I ordered one of those neon signs

Off of some shopping site,

 For you, but for me to hang it up

It reads "Why really then!"

You could, rather anyone could ask

Why would I do such a silly thing

 But then that begs the question

What part of me was really sane

When the moon rang bang dead center

Of a gloomy night sky

You sang of joyful thoughts

I had no reason to know of pain

But then when is my life and pain apart

You haven't even asked me yet

And why would you want to now

For this October of Mumbai is passing

And there is plentiful of rain to show

I would like to interupt at this and point

Like I always do, but to who, but to who

I sounded like a wise owl I know

But my skies are never blue

A shade of orange maybe

Of your setting instantly upon your rise

This heart of mine lies shredded 

  like a cloth by mice

Where could I get some threads I wonder

And would those threads hold these pieces

I am trying to stitch my heart back together

And end up stitching it to my sleeve

I guess I will wear it there for its easier to see

When you go vanishing in the dark

It can yell out your name and plead

Talking about the neon light again

And back to answering why really then

It' like a slap to my face for my audacity

Of expecting love out of time

Both pass me by and audibly too

 So when I shall switch the sign on

I will sit and fill a drink,

   have another few

Then pass out

   under the neon sign

Falling in love with my sadness

Hey there again darling, I have missed you and your tormenting

Now, before your anger lashes out at me, know I never did forsake you

You my dear are the constant that I have forever known

And you are always here ready to embrace me in your welcoming arms

My dear dear sadness, I have seen you stare at me, bidding your time

I should have accepted you at the first instance, I am but a fool

This time I am back, I shall let you have me all to yourself

This time I have severed the ropes that have kept my sanity afloat

So come, let us sing in the dark, hiding below the table

Crawled, curled into, like a foetus, that should have never been born

Let us paint the regrets into my eyes, this time in purple

I love purple, just saying if we paint it, let's do purple

Is there a doctor in the house?

Medically speaking, love could be like an immunosuppressive disease

The contact of your soul to mine has brought upon me

Every strain of love was inoculated for, accounted for

Yet your variant has infected me, defeated me

This offshoot wont kill me, it is a terminal illness

That keeps me alive, wishing for death, teasing me to live

Confining me to your absence, rendering me quarantined

Shackling me to the hurt of a million hurt

Absence is opportunistic, so is pain

These often come to visit like old friends every evening

I have little choice than to play the host

While they decorate my bedside with their hurtful flowers

Each night post your refrain to love has arrived at my doorstep

I haven't slept an ounce of peaceful sleep

My dreams are of me, writhing in pain from this constant crying

I float helplessly now in this ocean of mire, definite, dark, deadly and deep

Watering my Sunflowers

It is dark and cloudy, the rain is arrested behind as if paused in fear of the obvious

Every now and then a drop forms , recedes back merges into the subtle waters

Between the wind and the thundering a drop somehow manages to form

It has been in wait too long, the two dark clouds touch each other let a drop fall

The drop glistens in the moon light, as if it is of pristine beauty 

It is not beautiful, and it knows too as it gently hangs on, waiting to let go

As it let goes, a sigh escapes my lips, it calls your name as my tear drops 

Splattering on my hand gripping the railing of my balcony, breaking into shards

Each for a broken piece of my heart, that you never seem to see

I feel a torrential downpour from the dark and heavy eye lids

They blink, watering the sunflowers in my ledge garden, being of some use

After all

Love!

Maybe love

But 

I

Hey

Good Night dear wind in my lungs

It is easier to breathe, when its your fragrance

And now they are memories, of the beautiful storm

That never pauses now

Breathe, try to, waiting, broken, shattered

Over and again

Calling out to the five

Watch me, sun 

For I set before you everyday

And then rise into the void 

In utter and coherent dismay

See me, sky

I am bluer than your shade

Amongst all that is beautiful

I am the dearth unmade

Hear me, wind

As I sigh in exacerbated living

Whilst you give me life

This existence is unforgiving

Know me, earth

For I am born of your essence

I have been tred upon like you

Yet I am only a disgrace

Feel me, pain

I am your undeniable constant 

Find me where you often visited me

I stand there in contempt 

Times heals things, one postulates

"Time heals everything",  she said as she abandoned my reaching out whilst reaching her home

It is not upto me, and not like me to interject at what she has stated, I know time is like a gentle mist on this iron heart of mine

It rusts, yet becomes bright red and makes it brittle, concealing every crack, overcoats it with this dust

With each thought of her, it rusts a little more slowly but steadily, her thoughts corrode, as her absence drenches

Time heals everything, sure, Hasn't healed me my missing you. I hope it fares better for you I respond

I sit down and sink into my chair knowing how everything is about to collapse inside me, gasp as I pause for a moment

She is oblivious to my plight, love, hurt, and thereof, who can blame her, it is mine to bear this too

I close the conversation, wishing her a good night and best wishes, hoping the universe looks kindly upon her

I try to write another line of text to her, I pause I pick up my ruler and hit my own knuckles to stop my fingers

I look at the screen reflecting me, knowing this is no longer me, my will has become dust and its flying in the wind

I close the conversation without another word, having to hold my self upright at this point, work days you see

When I sleep tonight, maybe I will wake up tomorrow and hear her for a moment, or maybe I won't wake.

Sunday cleaning can hurt, but it's worth the risk

I always have to hear you, especially when I end up twisting my ankle, wrist, or knee

It hurts terribly you see, but somehow talking to you makes it fade

I can fall into the gentle mist of your voice in my ears and float endlessly

The pain seems to just leave me be for the moment I see or hear you

It does return once we hang up and get back to doing the things we need

Today was another day of such random pain, as I woke up this Sunday morning

I wanted to clean up the room, knowing me, you know how rigorous I get

Cleaning any and everything in sight, in utter disarray and quite disorganised

I slipped and twisted my hurting knee, yes I had twisted it last week dreaming

We were running amongst the thickets in that dream, chasing you in my beautiful sleep

I woke to realise I was thrashing my feet, not unlike me to do exactly what I believe

I cleaned the room in a lot of pain, oft trying to catch a glimpse of you, or hear a quick calling

You were caught up I think, I expect too much of your presence around me

I bore my pain, I know I could have let you know of the same but I let it be

I rather not keep you away from what your calling is, at times better than we

I have rested and tested my knee, and it seems I have been lucky not to break it

So I will have you know, I applied some balm and mom massaged my knee a bit

    Thank you, mom

Oh and just so you know, I was hoping and wishing for a glimpse, if I forgot to tell you

Maybe I find myself calmer when I am reflected in your eyes

Why! this morning, mom mentioned metal mirrors and wanting to get one

She said it reflects authentic images, unlike those glass-silvered ones

Your eyes are the mirror, I told her, yours and her's I am sure

Both seem to remind me I can breathe in ease, loving both of you forever

That too

As you shudder in the heights of your release
Let me cup your mouth and swallow your scream
Grip your willing tongue in my mouth and fill my mouth
Making your tongue belong to me

When your insides exact my flaming fire
Hold me closer, in hands and kegel'd
let me be milked by your hunger that meets mine
let me drown in your wetting rise

When you and I finally heave and sigh
Pent of energies yet in burning desires
Let us lay in each other's arms
Be aroused again, drowning in passionate screams

Khair , jaane de

Jhoomar ki kaanch hi to hai, gir gayi toot gayi Jaane de,

Kal shanivar hai, ek aur hafta beet gaya, tum nahi mili, jaane de

Mere ghutne ka dard laut aaya, chalna nahi ho paa raha hai, jaane de

Tumko awaaz di maine, tumne nazarandaz kiya, jaane de

Jhoomar to waise bhi tumhare aane par jalta tha, shayad jalta tha, par timtimaata tha, jaane de

ye jo Saat din hai, wo tumhare paas hone se din lagte the, jee leta tha, jaane de

Ye dard to hamesha rehta tha, tumko dekhkar mai isey bhulaa deta tha, jaane de

Tumko pukaarna mere liye ek kavita likne si thi, jaane de

Shaayad mujhse zyaada wo jhoomar tumko dekh kar muskuraata tha, jaane de

Shaayad hafte ke har din mein ek alag khushi si thi, jaane de

Shaayad mera dard bhi mera dhyaan chaahta tha, jaane de

Tumhaara jaana laazmi tha, mai to kuch hoon nahi, jaane de

Band botal mein paani kaise bharta hai koi!

Tumse kya kahu, tumpar to phisla hi tha

tumse baat karte karte chal raha tha

Phisal gaya main phirse

Wahi to hota rehta hai,

 tumse baat karta hoon to mera dimag sirf tumko sochta hai

Jaise kal , kal nahi aaj hi , 

subah ke paanch baje to subah hi hai

Apne botal mein paani bhar raha tha

Ab tum kahogi ke paanch baje tak kyo jage hue the!

Wo , mere siraahne mei jo tumhaare baal lage the, 

chun chun kar samet raha tha

Tumko sochte sochte pani jab bharne gaya

Botal ka dhakkan kholna bhool gaya tha

Jab pani pairon par chalka, tab tumhaare khayal se bahar aaya

Pochha lene gaya, phir tumko sochkar usi gire paani par phisal gaya

Ab dekho na, sone chalta hoon to tumhare baalon ne jagaa diya

Jaag raha tha to usi siraahne ko pakkad kar sone ka mann kiya

Tumhari yaad yoonhi mujhe jaagti hai 

Phir dimag thak kar chalte chalte mujhe neend ki jhapkiyo mei giraa deti hai

Dil to waise bhi tod chuke ho tum, tumhari yaadon ko kya takleef hai mujhse

Jo baar baar aakar mujhe tod deti hai

Ab to cheh baj chuke hai, tum aath ghante pehle hi to gaye the

Mujhe chhodkar

Agar beech ke wo paanch saal nikaal doon

To haan aath hi ghante hue hai

Kyonki jab bhi ye din aata hai har saal, 

tumhari  yaad phir tum bankar mere samaksh aa jaati hai

Baatein karti hai, jhagadti hai, gale lagaati hai, roti hai, rulaati hai, sataati hai, behlaati hai

Lekin phir chali jaati hai yaad dilaakar ki tum chale gaye ho

Aath hi ghante pehle 

Mai phir band botal mein paani bharoonga

Phir phisloonga, giroonga, chot lagegi, khoon niklega

Farsh par cheete sookh jayenge

Mujhe dard nahi hoga, kyonki dil ka zakhm bhara nahi hai na

Nayi chot ke dard ko zara rukna hoga

Tum to jaanti ho mujhe, jo pehle aaya wo pehle paayega

Pehle dil ke zakhm bhar jaane do, baaki dard phir kabhi dekh lenge

Aare haan, phir se bhool gaya

Botal ke dhakkan ko kholna padega

Paani bharkar peena hai na, tum jaise kehti thi

"Sone se pehle paani pi lo"

"Chal, sone ki koshish karta hoon

Warna ye botal aur girne ka silsila poore din chalega"

Realisation is transformation

I walked to a priest mid-prayer

Letting the water drown to my waist

His hands stretched out, his palms holding water

A fish, flickering in it, hoping to be free

He smiled at me and poured it out

Into my palms, and smiled

He asked if I was the fish, the palm, or the water

I said I wasn't, and he asked again

He called me the little fish

I objected, he hushed me with benevolence

I asked him why so, why would I be it

He said you stand struggling waist-deep here

Only in the palm of the world

With just the right amount of water and air

Yet you wish to struggle, how unfair

If this was his arrogance or ignorance 

I would have scowled, yet I had come to him

To find my way

As he held my palms and helped dip my head

The fish darted off as my hurt did

Post two more I looked at him

His beard dripped water, and his eyes were still

Reading mine, he blessed me this time

He spoke no more, yet I heard him better now

When I turned and walked out toward the bank

I was aware, I was just like the sand

That mixes with water, flows, stays, and becomes rocks

Only to be ground to sand again

Painting her thoughts

The fall is willful, not by chance or mistake
Nor is the fall remorse, yet in the absence of the fallen for
The absence just bites into my soul, It is but folly to see
When the mighty falls, one who has stood beyond all that breaks him
Yet now as fly ash, Scattered to the winds

 
In love, Maybe in worse, In torment, maybe forever
Yet again the universe has conspired to salt the wounds, it causes
Bound in such wants, beyond just mere flesh
The mind has no respite, only to witness the absence
Stark and taunting, where shall it find peace
Other than the faux pas of knowing, that I am wanted as I want

Is that a smirk, glued to the fullest of the moon
I care not if it mocks, I see no light in this endless night 

It just harrows my soul,  And she asks if this is a paraphrase
Her guts, how dare she even,

     then again who would know
Unlike most, I am just a speck, floating on winds unknown

And she waves as if it shall be solace
as if it may calm the tremors of her absence

     will it, 

        won't it
Would it matter? 

    my fall is furthered by my dying light

And she asks, who she is, An answer I don't know
Not just don't, but I cannot, For the depths are beyond my reach
And to even dare! What she thinks is hearsay, 

    Of love and feeling
        Blood or flesh, 

I brush it aside and just wave

She calls out my name, a stunted form of it
Hoping I am not all lost, Is it that she knows not that, Or is it that she hopes it isn't

then again come morning, Another day shall call upon us
She has to reach, and so have I, locked to such bonds we both are

Ah! her praise, As pretty as daisies, yet the daisies die at dusk
All they have is a day or two, and upon three they just turn to mud
The rubies, splash of red, Drops that gleam, bleeding through my pores
How I wish the soul could proxy, it bleeds, yet it is hidden deep

She says of a union beyond mere thought, yet she is a million inches apart
Is she obscure to the fact, that a heart can only crack

In every fragment, I see her face painted in swirls
Then I would stand before Van Gogh 

Ask him if his 'starry night' could take a bow 

    and leave

For this is darker, yet brighter in every phase
Oil on canvas, Brushstrokes of fingertips, her words upon my soul

Waiting on another day

I steady myself as I traverse this icy desolate road ignoring the bouts of depressing loneliness

Albeit temporary, for tomorrow I would meet her again, maybe, in hope

The mind's frostbite comes undone at the mere thought of her embrace

It is her walking away in the other direction every day that freezes my soul

I pause mid-walk, stand at every nook and corner I have held her hands

Some days when I kissed her and bid goodbye and held back my tears

My cuff knows more than my kerchief does, it is quicker, less obvious too

You wouldn't have seen me wipe my eyes, as I always did turn around

By the tea stall where we sometimes would stop for a cup and converse extensively

I would lean and tear a piece of a movie poster, making an actor appear in another movie

You would laugh at some of these random acts of my childish acts

Pull me in for a hug, and lean arching your forehead for a kiss

Tomorrow maybe she will want to bring her suitcases over, take over my wardrobe

Giving me a chance to complain about her excessive clothes and shoes

Then as always I would pause post the exact ten-minute window and smile at her

She knows I cannot stay angry, for my love for her wins me over

If you

If you hold my hand right now

I would wish to die

if you would touch my cheek right now

I would wish to die

if you would kiss me for a moment 

I would wish to die 

but I know these are just dreams

and my dreams are either dead or about dying

for none,

none of them are about me living 

living in your embrace

I am wishing for

yet I know I am wishing hopelessly

as your absence dawns

gently, often strangling my throat

not literally though

but it feels so

and I wanted to say 

If you hold my hand right now

I would wish to die

if you would touch my cheek right now

I would wish to die

if you would kiss me for a moment 

I would wish to die 

but I know these are just dreams

and my dreams are either dead or about dying

Why do you torment me, 

maybe it is not you, it is me

dreaming, of torment 

but it is sweeter for it is yours

and only yours 

If you hold my hand right now

I would wish to die

if you would touch my cheek right now

I would wish to die

if you would kiss me for a moment 

I would wish to die 

but I know these are just dreams

and my dreams are either dead or about dying

Then, I see you

and you make me breathe

bring me back to life

I breathe your fragrance 

I wish to live again

If you hold my hand right now

I would wish to live

if you would touch my cheek right now

I would wish to live

if you would kiss me for a moment 

I would wish to live

Let this be my beautiful dream

for you are the like the sweetest dream

Assimilating her essense

She handed me a bunch of roses. They were the most beautiful 
It had to be. They were touched by her, this ethereal being, her
I wanted them to be a part of me. I sliced them julienne first
Diced them again, until the calyx, I paused for a moment at the stems
I sliced them into tiny bits of wonderful greens
As she looked at me, she gasped at my sanity or its fading thereof
She looked at my chopping board as I started heating my pan
I sprinkled some oil, followed it up with these lovely flowers
I asked her if she would mind if I didn't share this dish with her
I stood there eating out of the pan, a morsel at a time 
As I ate the last bit, she stomped her foot, wondering how much of a waste
There wouldn't have been a shred of doubt in her head at such
Her lover had just stir-fried her gift of lovely flowers
I pulled her close, as she was lost in this senseless display
I said, "My love, these flowers would wilt, and be lost one day
I rather have them be a part of me forever, even if a bit
 for now, I could feel my blood running with these flowers' fragrance".

Existential Dread

Often I lie awake on my back and ask myself Would I be loved?
And would i be worth being loved by you 
ever?
someday?
Maybe?
And then I realise you exist, as the caricature of my quest
drawn in white on the void of my existence
Stark
unattainable
Rejectful
When I try to sleep, I often question myself of its worth
for nothing seems to change, everything still hurts
Sharp
persistently
Profusely
Would the sun rise again, and should it rise
would it matter for I am blinded in love of you
desolate
devastated
deprived
When sleep arrives dragging your thoughts back into my mind
I face down, weep, curl into a foetus, question my birth
vehemetly
violently
Vicarously

Chasing Nightmares

Many stories have been told about dreamcatchers
I have never heard one though, and I decided to make one
Not just a story, but also a dreamcatcher itself
I heard you have nightmares of me being in love with you

As the jute went around the ring, I whispered words of love
At the knots, and over a hundred of them I whispered care
Where the knots coalesced, I painted them with a blob of paint
I painted them red, as a metaphor of my life blood

Between the sudden urge to utter words of my undying love to you
I stopped short, for this love of mine is a shattered dream, so I prayed for you
And when you hang this dreamcatcher at your bedside some night
Rest knowing that you are prayed for, as I have woven my best into these

This is my story, and this shall be forgotten by all but me
I do not wish for you to remember it, maybe this could help
When a nightmare raises its cold claws at you in your gentle sleep
This dream catcher shall be the conduit to send it to me