Burn

The trusty lighter,

The frothy white water

The toilet bowl,

The yellowing stone.

The ‘ash-ing’ portrait,

The melting paste,

The puttering ink,

The ‘wafer-ing’ page.

The ‘love-make’ bills,

The crackling hearts,

The ‘nuc-tear’ fuel,

The exploding past.




(And with this I burn everything, that ever linked my past to yours)

As you said Goodbye

What torn promises, you wouldn't keep,

the wreckage behind you, as you leave,

looking back through the speeding glass,

I appear small, my tears smaller still.

I stand alone, as I quiver,

Choking on my tearful pain,

My heart sinks, my eyes squint,

As you disappear in that rain.



The road looks now, an empty rivulet,

Flooded with my aching lament,

I hold on still, I might hear the engine roar,

As it takes you away, and leaves me sore.





What wreckage remains, as you lead

The death of your promises, upon which I weep,

Silently screaming, my body aches,

I still stand still, as now it quakes.


If I turn away, it wouldn’t be a dream,

You would be gone; I would lay forlorn, still

My mind empty, I hear your goodbye,

I close my eyes and silently cry,

Yellow daffodils and bright blue skies,

Perhaps once again, my life would pass by.

Our Last Dance

Locked in your arms,

My heart, a great stallion,

gazing glassily into yours,

how I wished I could cry.

wrapped in your arms,

delirious in my pain,

I followed along,

as I longed for you to kiss me.



If I could fathom then,

the inevitability of that end,

when your arms would slip slowly off my waist,

when my eyes would leave your beautiful face,

I would have, with all my heart,

Begged for you, to kiss me.



I would have brought my cheek upon yours

as my body would resist my hearts implore,

to be closer still, to be forever filled,

looking beyond you as I would weep,

my tears wouldn’t stop

and I wouldn’t breathe.




I wouldn’t want you to ever leave.

Oh! My sweet love,

How I would have kissed you then,

If only I knew, I would never dance again.

My Divine

When blamed of beauty, you guise, guiltily by,
Vain becomes you, yet, you proudly shine,
Your words, pithy, your gaze fleeting,
Float on, idol, divine.
And I will worship the ground,
Upon which your soles, barely linger.


I look over gently,
From your skin to your soul.
Unveiling splendor,
like you, there were never more.
Beauty now prevails, defined ,
impeaching you of thievery, deceit, undue.
And yet I worship the ground,
Upon which your soles, barely linger.


Your presence haunts my fragility, my heart,
Silence looms as my body weeps,
Overwhelmed by your beauty, revered,
I only stare, I stare.

I look away quickly, yielding to worth,
And then I bow, beneath my heart,
And I worship the ground and I worship again,
And I worship again and I worship some more


Morning chirps, breezily by, and
though golden treasures adorn your life.
Your eyes twinkle the deceit of night last,
You were conquered, sold, bought and lost.
Tarnished my love, only tatters remain,
Of your life and your worth, of you, divine.
Yet I worship, with sordid grief,
And yet In that pain, I dwell dutifully, weak.


With reborn hope, I look upon your deeds,
If they could have you, it could, just once, be me,
I would hold you tender, un-break your stupor,
Your warm skin would boil, for me,
Your hairs would rise, your heart would thunder,
Your body would weep, all for me.

But as I would touch you, your precious lips,
Would part in anguish, in protest, in pain,
As tears would flood, your burning face,
I would know my burden was nothing as great.

And soon I would wake, and find me unworthy,
and soon I would sigh, and look away,
And soon you would leave, and break my heart,
Though soon, I would lie and be content.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When accused of being beautiful, you look away guilty. You are vain and that brings you pride. You are superior and speak less. Your words aren’t wasted, just like your gaze isn’t. you never give more than what’s needed, in fact you are meager with wasting your looks to common eyes. You are divine. I worship the ground which your feet barely touch.

I sneak a peek at you, so you won’t notice me and turn away. Your skin and soul define a kind of beauty that never before prevailed on earth. You are accused of stealing beauty, deceiving people somehow. And yet, I still cannot help but worship and kiss the ground you walk upon.

Your presence sends my fragile heart into over drive. Silence rings in my ears as my body starts to sweat (weep). I am so overwhelmed by your holy beauty that I can only stare.
But I realize my worth quickly. I am not worthy enough to keep looking at you. And so I bow down as low as I can. Lower than my pride allows me and lower for my love, as it calls. I bow and I worship you.

As morning awakes, your life illuminated by sunlight. Though It’s decorating you in all the riches it can offer, still holding you as an idol of divinity, your beautiful twinkling eyes reveal your truth. You have been unfaithful to my devotion, philandering with evil, you were like a prostitute for the vices of life. You have been discarded, torn and tattered. But I still worship you, though now with filthy sorrow. I still remain loyal and though weak with self loathing, I still wait for you painfully.

But as I think and ponder on your actions. I question my position. If every vice has had a go at you, if nothing substantial of you remains why can’t I have you? I would hold you softly, yet with passion. I would be the one for whom your blood would boil, the one to give you the shivers of excitement. Your heart would pace and your body would sweat. All this for me.

But, as I touch you precious lips, I can see the anguish on your face. You are in pain, being taken by me. you cry to be free you weep in the pain that my presence has brought upon you. It is then that I know that my burden of never getting you, of never being worthy enough for your love, is lesser than the pain It would cause you, by just being mine. With this realization, I wake up. I know I am unworthy and it was all a dream. As I look away, I know you are leaving, and you break my heart doing so, but I could always lie to myself again, pretend that you love me, and be content.

She used to be Her

I look back in adulation, to a person that used to be,

In love and enough for herself,

Her living, a simple point,

Her life, an unfathomable digress.


I look back at her untouched,

Unclaimed by her own

Other sides to her haven’t unfolded yet,

The complications have yet to set in.


I want to warn her, the leap,

Save her from her present loathing,

For all she blames her life to be,

Is that one decision that wrecked all in it.

Letting go….

“…at night it’s the worst. I hear ambulances, or noise…I jump up out of the bed with this scared panicky feeling…only, I don’t know what I am scared for, because what I feared the most, already happened…I still feel like he is going to walk through that door any moment now and hug me as if its all a nightmare…”

I can’t really grasp, with full conviction, the enormity of the events around me.
My best friend, my life is no more..

If only I remembered the last moments we shared with certainty and clarity. I keep searching for it incessantly. What my last words to him were, how he just passed along, did he bid farewell?
I am just looking frantically, for some insinuation to explain it all. There is this niggling feeling inside me that assures me, things will be absolutely normal once I am able to explain them, to reason them and reason with them. To try and convince ‘reason' that all this is just a terrible mistake.

The last time we were together, he jovially accused me of hiding the remote. So trivial… he didn’t say he loved me or forgave me or that I would be okay, no kissing, and no farewell. Why didn’t he say anything else? Why didn’t he prepare me? We had plans; we had to live our life. One life, Together. He wasn’t supposed to just run out and die, leaving me with fragments of what was left of our dreams.
I don’t have any dreams without him. I have nowhere to go to, no aspirations, and no ambition.

I know he wants me to move on. He wants me to reminisce, but with amusing delightful anecdotes, shared among all those he held dear. I am impatient and incensed. How does he expect me to be riveted at a conversation about how great he was? He abandoned me. I had no one, but him and he didn’t even say goodbye. With what face does he seek impunity? How do I ever forgive him? How do I absolve him, or exonerate myself for not being strong enough to end my own misery?

This picture of us I hold was a promise and now that promise is broken…
What’s left is a frame and lone pillow, moistened by the abstraction of hope.


“I have two hearts, when you are around, they race like wild animals, and you can hear them thudding, competing to win yours over. Both of them refuse to function when you are not around, and I barely survive on the promise that I will win you over someday.”

He won me over with that ludicrous twaddle.

I still remember teasing him for all those years. What garish poetry, but what a man. He never feared letting people know what he truly felt. He always put himself out there, untainted and sincere. Never delayed, expressing his love. Never the reason for distress, never a bystander either. He would have wanted me to forget him. Let go of my sorrow.

But, my pain does not want to leave. The day my pain vanishes, so does his memory. I want to cherish this grief. I want to remember him eternally. I don’t want to live completely oblivious to the fact, that he treasured me more than he feared death, so much so as to gently pass on, not giving me a moment’s grief more than death bargained for.
So I need to stay in agony, my ‘aide memoire’.

Why do people seek such ‘atrocities’ of me? Why should anyone ever move on? Why is life meant to be lived in bliss, and not in sorrow and despair? If its torture, it’s because something priceless and irreplaceable was lost. It’s not meant to be ‘moved on’ upon. People say live in the present. This is my present. And this will always remain my present, my dreadful loss.

I lost a part of my life today. I am paralyzed. My brain doesn’t think and my heart rarely beats. I merely exist now. Our life, as I nurtured and cherished for years, is over…

I didn’t deserve this retribution. It feels almost vindictive on gods’ part. It’s cruel and merciless, depriving someone of a final goodbye. What pitiable abhorrence. I sympathize with god, for being so human after all. My faith is dead, obsolete.

I sound irrational; am i not allowed to be?
Is there anything that could seem reason enough for me to forgive god for my misfortune?

The truth is, we live under the impression that we get what we deserve. Life seems to be all about ‘Karma’ and ‘circles’. That’s not the way it works. At least mine didn’t. What good did I ever do to deserve him in the first place? That love, honesty and forgiveness? My life completely turned around, in awe and admiration of this ingenious fabrication of fate. I had with me, all those years of chaste blessing in the form of this man who made me complete. This wonderful friend, who taught me how to love unconditionally and express it without hesitation.

Maybe there is no god. There is just destiny, good and bad luck. It doesn’t depend on fortune or deed. There is no algorithm to decipher this clandestine. It’s unstructured and vague. It grants you your choices and actions, also conceding you the occasional indulgences and denials. He was my indulgence, my good luck. I did nothing to deserve him, and I can do nothing to calculate and interpret my loss. That’s just the way life is. That’s the only way I can ‘explain’ it and finally Let Go.