Denial

denial4

 

If I say it aloud,
Will it serve as cathartic?
If I let it flow into words,
Will that help me heal?
Will it stop me from visiting you in my dreams?
Make it pause for a little while, help me breathe?

 

“It will be if it is supposed to be”, I know you said it,
And I waited in my purgatory hoping you’ll see this.
No one else can ever put all your details in a simple order!
The taste of your wine and the munchies that goes with it,
The food that you like and the exact spice levels in it.
The type of kiss that you enjoy and that little spot behind your ear,
The smell of your body and the perfume that you would not wear.
The kind of coffee table you’d have and what you like in the morning,
Or when you’ve had a long day and the kind of sleep for which you’ve been longing.
Can anyone else whisper the words in your ears what exactly is it that do you want?
Have you close your eyes and make you feel how you wanted to, all along.
Tell me these and I’ll accede to our separation,
Else the feeling of denial might never leave its gestation.

 

You tried to move away and I was jealous,
And there may have been small little parts when I’ve acted nothing but callous.
I don’t have a drive and what carries me around is the passion,
A burning desire to not let things escape and all I have now is that too familiar desperation.
I know we laughed about out not forgetting our love and all that jazz,
But tell me if you believed it were  remotely possible that this won’t leave me mad?
I cannot let you go I cannot let you leave,
The door is always open and the window is up by a creek.
Your home is waiting for you, the bed unmoved, not a cobweb has crept,
The place and my existence denying you ever left.

 

 

Inner Demons

shine-on

As he lay on the floor with yet another neat little soldier of death burning slowly between his fingers, he wondered if he could have done it all a little different. The whiskey clad breath emancipating from his nostrils heaved another sigh, and the man in the mirror on the other side of the room hung his head in shame. Such promise, such talent. All going down the drain. He used to be a poet, had in grasp a semi-decent hand at the guitar, a mind that could have gone places if not haunted by its own demons. A life that could have moved in a direction so different, a love that he had in his grasp albeit for a fleeting second.

He had never been a hard-worker, and, you know, that was just fine. His passions used to pump him up, and when he took upon a project, the only thing he could see in the complete spectrum was what he wanted to do, and he stayed on with it till he ran it to completion. If you go read his earlier pieces, you’d know what is being talking about here! His only driving force was the fire that was within, be it writing a new story or coming up with lyrics for a new song, perfecting that one kick when he played football, winning someone over. And people around him saw it, the light that radiated from within, the smile that sometime lay plastered on his face. And it made them happy, to be with him, to be around. As he tried to push his sorry ass off the floor, all he could think of was that fire, and whatever transpired that extinguished what remained of it, leaving him hollow. Was it because of it that they all left? Or did the fire die when they did?

He had always been haunted by voices inside his head. He had pushed them deep into a vortex where they could not touch him anymore, but that, that was before. That was when he could distract himself with everything going around, but being alone, they slowly broke away. And he could not help but listen to them. They were coming from his head, they were real! And they took him to her. Talked about her, dug up a beautiful memory and place it in front of his eyes and make him fall far far away to a world that was nothing but her. It revolved around her smile, and the walls were painted with their love. Far across, there was her, and in between, the memories they made together. To go to her, he would carefully swim into each of them, and just as he thought he’d made it, just as he dared to touch her, the walls crumbled down and he woke up in a jolt of reality.

As he looked across of what remained of the man in the mirror, he wondered for how long could he keep trusting the voice inside? For how long could he hide himself in the pretext of the life that passed him by? Hang his head in shame after whenever the voice asked him to put his hands inside his pants and give a little yank in the middle of the night, or have another glass of spirits when he knows that the night has been done before a long long time. Then another, and another. And again, he was back, wanting to touch her, feel her, caress her. Indulge in sloppy kisses, place a hand on inside of her thighs as he prepared to go inside. “No wait, wait, NO! stop! STOP!”, he screamed at his head to not go there for once as tears streamed out of his eyes again.

Will it ever stop? Will he ever be home when he is alone? Will he ever find his peace or it’ll be yet another sad case of a bright light gone ashtray? If at all, for him, will it ever cease to hurt? Will the demons go away? Will the fire come back? Can he smile again?

Shine on, you crazy diamond.

Fine Margins

“Damn! This is painful.”, he thought as he tried to keep her thoughts at bay that moment. It was a constant struggle, every waking hour of every single day. Especially when it was so easy to immerse his self in the sea of memories they’d made together- their first kiss, their second kiss, holding her close, making love. Each of them brilliant, each so much fun! Them sneaking off to steal a kiss when their friends were in the other room, her holding him close when she knew no one was looking, them both waiting for the other to ask for an evening of wine, her tantalizing glances that drove him mad! Mesmerizing, pure moments. They put him in their spell each time he thought of them, and he could smile. On what there was. On what could have been.

As someone who believed in science more than on himself, he knew that dwelling in could haves is as stupid as it could get. But the writer in him compelled him to look that way, pick up the pieces from before when they left off to create his own worlds. There, each of his could haves had its own space. Each narrative different storyline. A new world, where the outside didn’t matter, he would fill them in with colors, detail it with the things they used to love. It would be their world, custom to their likings, their demands, their dreams. He would off to play football each evening, and not be injured. She would dance her way into the world, and no one could have anything to say. And they’d be together every night. Oh, and there would be stars. Twinkling, playfully announcing that they are real. As real as the two of them.

Playing with memories wasn’t bad, what hurt was snapping out of them. Looking at everyone go around hand in hand, knowing that they were meant to do that. Knowing that somewhere, she might be thinking the same thing. Knowing that somewhere, she might be with someone, thinking of him. Him not realizing when their expiration date came.

He’d kept his indulgences at bay for sometime now- they flooded in the memories. Indulgences solidified them and placed them in front of his eyes. Then he couldn’t help reaching out to the phone and message her, call her- ask her if she missed him as the same way he did- something he always regretted the next morning. But today, as he was finishing up the almost empty bottle of scotch, he felt so much more in control. “Brilliant! I’ll probably go and get another half, the night is still young. Hell, I feel fine, I can switch on my phone again, will not call her!”. Maybe he felt like giving himself a treat for being sober for so long. For not giving into his memories. For standing up.

He wasn’t even finished with racing his car to the fourth gear when the phone rang. He looked down to see who could it have been when a screeching horn brought him back to the world.

“Fuck!”

A Book of Life

waves

 

His wasn’t just a passing monologue, it were a repertoire of rudimentary memoirs. Of the millions cached in the huge sachet of what he called his little treasures, some lit up unlike any others. He had always thought of himself a painter of battles, a silent vigilante, a rock on the shore- only to be hit at, taking it all. There, looking at the waves, distant but ever involved, on the endless canvas of imagination, he painted his photographs.

And when a wave strong enough came crashing down, he safely stored what he had painted in the little book called life. While most were no more than scribbled notes in the margin, every once a while, he found some good enough to form paragraphs. Very, very rarely, he were lucky enough to do paint a masterpiece, and they would form his chapters. Oh, it was heartbreaking when his chapters ended! And once, only once he met someone, someone so integral, so special- he put her name in the title.

Ever met someone who even the air smells of even when they aren’t there? You close your eyes, and you can breathe the scent of their neck, the touch of their lips, the warmth of their fingers, the taste of their tongue! You look forward to the mornings just because you can wake up next to them, the nights so that you can sleep with! The time in between tends to be wonderful just because they are around. You find yourself catching a lazy grin and you don’t know why! And you think you would do anything to let that feeling last forever. They knew it might not end well, they knew the days ahead might be black, but together they would make it the best shade of darkness they’d ever seen. They would laugh and cry, and smile at inappropriate times; walk in the snow- hand in hand, and grow old together, listening to the idiosyncrasies of the other. And once a while, she would ask him what she meant to him. He always showed her the book, and she would know.

Years later, she found herself again at the shore. Time had torn them apart but she always knew where find what remained of him. He was long gone, but she found his book. A tear escaped her eyes and she spoke to no one in particular, “why aren’t there any new entries, you promised, you promised you wouldn’t stop.”

He never did, till the day he died. The pen never left his hand, (with her gone) just the ink went dry.

 

 

 

Heat

night

 

 

Why aren’t you here tonight?
I could touch you,
Kiss you, feel you.
Hear your soft sigh as I run my fingers down your skin,
Feel you quiver as my lips run against the contours of your neck.
Let a hand free so you could guide it wherever you chose,
And hold you tight,
So tight, when it hit the right spot.

What wouldn’t I give to have you here by my side,
Pull you close,
Breathe your skin,
And the secrets that the night lets fly.

 

 

 

 

Bade ho rahe ho aap

 

bade ho rahe ho aap

Chalo bete, bahar jaao,
Shaam ho rahi hai,
Thoda ghoom ke aao.
Dost intezaar kar rahe honge aapke,
Abhi umar hai,
Khelo, koodo, muskaraao,
Beta, bachhe ho abhi aap.

..

..
Arre, abhi tak bahar?
Waqt ka andaaza naa laga,
Yaa dimaag shaitaan ko de aayin aap?
Padhai karni hai,
Hazaaron cheezein hain zamaane mein,
Kab samjhoge,
Beta, bade ho rahe ho aap.

..

..
Haan, pata hai humein,
Wo aapke bachpan ka dost hai,
Magar hamaari izzat ka bhi kucch karo lihaaz.
Mahaulle waale kya sochenge?
Ek hi to beti hai hamaari,
Naam kharaab hua to jaayenge kahan?
Sharma ji ki dekho beti,
Government school mein padhke laayi hai 85%,
Private school mein padhke kya yahi seekha aapne?
Kab samjhoge?
Bete bade ho rahe ho aap.

..

..
Haan, maana aap bade doctor ho,
Bade sheher mein rehte ho,
Lambi gaadi hai aapki!
Magar humaari zindagi to yahin hai.
Biraadari kya sochegi?
Nahin beta, maana wo bhi doctor hai,
But apni jaat ka to hai nahin.
Hamaare khaandaan mein kisi nein aisa nahin kiya,
Komal chaachi ki betiyon ko dekho,
Kaise dhoom dhaam se vidaayi ki thi.
Sirf apne baare mein mat socho gudiya,
Beta maan jaao,
Beta,
Beta bade ho gaye ho aap.

 

 

 

Parallel Universe

 

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The parallel universe,

Oh it paints a beautiful picture for us!

There are starry nights and flickering away,

Is the warmth of an amorous candlelight.

 

There are no barriers, there are no boundaries,

I can feel you by my side and you me.

Where nights smell of love, and we paint our rosy pictures!

I climb on top and you push me to the side,

Maybe playfully sing that the time’s not right.

Then I hold you close and you give me a kiss,

Tell me, maybe, just maybe, this life doesn’t go amiss.

 

And this life could have turned a little better,

Don’t you wish we could have met somewhat earlier?

Where you weren’t bounded by your rules, and I weren’t that free from mine,

We could have given it a shot and seen it through time.

 

Time passed and took our reckless yonder of youth,

Where we could experiment, and wasn’t there plenty o’clock to mend?

There isn’t now and all we have are the fortresses in our heads,

And no one can breach the walls of memories that we have shared,

No one but us.

And every night, we will drink our glasses of wine,

Travel distances, the realms of time,

And when you are tired, I’ll kiss you to sleep,

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll tell me if this life doesn’t go amiss.

 

Oh the parallel universe,

What a beautiful picture it would be!

There will be starry nights,

And flickering away in the distance,

Be the warmth of our amorous candlelight.

 

 

 

Angel of the morning

 

their lives

They always brought out the best in each other, in most parts. Nothing is perfect, but what they had, they believed it to be as close as it gets. No promises, no commitments of being around till the next lifetime- it was about living in the moment, garnering the most from every second they had together, loving the other to bits even when they knew it was not for forever. Maybe they realized, for the sake of sanity of their minds and their souls, that the fires that burn this bright, are not meant to last.

 

She didn’t only give away her heart to this nomadic, affectious mess of a human being- she exchanged a part of her soul. Was it a surprise, then, that she was always left wondering with the question of what could have been?

He had fallen for her the moment that he lay his eyes on her, but tried to play it cool every time. She was an exotic goddess, not to be touched, not to be trifled with- share a few smiles, roam some miles- and that was about that. But with her every laugh, he fell some more; with every step, found himself at a place it was getting more and more difficult to come back from. He found himself falling in love, found himself falling very very fast. How can be so astonished now that he finds it very difficult to stand back up again, now that it is over?

 

 She was his Sweet Child, and he was her perfect recipe for the peaceful Sunday morning. The excised the same routine every time they went to bed together- she trying to sleep, he sneaking a kiss on her neck. She faking getting agitated, him holding her closer. She opening her eyes in the morning to find him already awake, just looking at that perfect face for hers, waiting for her to speak something, anything, in that angelic voice of hers. The list goes on and on. Their afternoons, their evenings. Their walking together in the snow for the first time. The twinkle on her face when she looked at anything cute and him just looking at her being a carefree soul- if only for a while. The passion in his voice when he used to speak about something he felt for and her just listening to him till he broke off and looked and her and smiled the biggest of smiles. Her throwing her little tantrums, and him loving her for that- he always thought that she looked so goddamn cute when she did that! Him throwing his inane fits and her consoling him to see the right way- she couldn’t believe he was still such a kid!

 

Ah, they were perfect, weren’t they? Maybe even they realized that! They didn’t have a honeymoon period, nor a time of dull inertness. They came together, the spark in each other was too strong for them not to be entwined. They loved, and they loved crazy. Maybe she had to leave, maybe he couldn’t make it work.

 

But as she parted her lips away from his for the last time, she knew she wouldn’t be able to feel the same again. And he, as he struggled to let her go, he knew he was letting go of his life.

 

High Hopes

 

summer_love_by_paulchen11-d5af62k

 

I wasn’t always like this, you know! Looking at the door- hoping for a knock, listening to the sound of the footsteps, wishing, praying that they be yours. I wasn’t always this senile, but you always got out the extremes from me, the whole range of emotions that I thought that I had buried deep inside- top to bottom, dawns to the dusks, you got them all out. When I was with you, I was a man possessed, without, I hoped as fuck to be put under the charm once again. Hoping that you would come around, hoping that you could see me as I saw you, for once, if at all.

 

You always compared yourself to others, how I was with them. Did you ever stop to wonder the difference in sentiments that I opened up to them? For the world, my range of emotional intelligence ranged from “oh fuck, that is terrible” to “oh faaack, that is absolutely brilliant!”. But you, you got the whole deal- from my tears to the wide ear to ear grins. We went down the lane to my inner sanctum, and what laid bare was my soul to you. We ran through the clouds and the only thing that came out was the rain. And for the life of me, I can never decipher what got lost in translation.

 

I looked at you, and I saw life. I saw the stars, the sunshine, and all that shit they say that makes one hopeful of the day that’s about to come by. The Sun, as well the Moon, you were the flower that made the world bloom. I was so accustomed to watch your face when you slowly drifted off to sleep, the tiny smile that stretched across your face when I kissed your cheeks and you drifted in your dreams. The soft little hands that I never wanted to let go, and the voice that woke me up each morning just when the night seemed to have taken its toll.  And I fell in love, with this, and all of that- I had promised myself that I will never commit the fallacy again, and you made me break it- so casually, no naturally. You never really had to do anything, you wouldn’t would have said a word, and I would have understood all what you meant. You wouldn’t would have moved a muscle, and I would have been on my knees.

 

On my knees. Looking up, at that smile. Looking up, into those eyes. Knowing that I belonged there. Knowing, that you knew it too. Knowing, that we might still have a chance. Knowing, that it could all fall apart. Knowing, with our lips entwined and eyes closed, this is a chapter that’ll define our lives from here to afar!

 

 

 

TrainWreck

trainwreck

 

..And he never could realize,
When was it that the perfect life just passed him by?
There had been glimmers of hope the entire while,
Plucked away, a shimmer at a time.

If he put his thoughts coherently enough,
He could see what he once was.
His lofted vanity and buoyant mannerisms,
Even if it all were a mask.
Should never ever have,
He laid bare his naked self for a few,
Sold was his soul, and he cut himself some new.
He looked at the abyss and the abyss glanced back,
What is the question he never could attack?

The voices, they now dictate what he needs to do,
He submitted to them long before he knew.
They scream sometimes, but that’s just fine,
As long as his hollow shell pours itself some old wine.
His speech gets hoarse, the bones creak as he walks,
But the voices assure him that it’s the way of the lord.

But somedays, sometimes, they go on for a retreat,
As the clouds lift, he begs for another dream.
And thinking of dreams, he shudders and cries,
Weren’t they what got him here with their beautifully constructed lies?