Time And Love

It dribbles at my feet

Looking for attention

I try to grab it

But it circles around my reflection

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What is it you ask?

It’s the time and love I never understood

I never knew what I was giving up

For the lust of the underachieved made me thirstier

 

With every drop of success that touched my lips

I wanted a shower of wins

With every person who lent me a piece of their hearts

I chased the one that was never meant to be mine

 

How foolish can you be I ask the reflection

That so demeans my existence and demands answers

As I stand shushed with the atrocity I put myself through

The reflection eases up

 

Laughs a little, taunts my existence

Walks away with a lost look,

Turns back, grins, eyes on shoulders

It’s the fire you lit in which you now smolder.

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I Remember You

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I remember you

Like I remember the sun being too hot on my skin

The clouds being a little relief

And the nights being empty and silent

 

I remember you

Being the rain, nothing beautiful

But the tantalizing smell of the mud

Breezing through the air

 

I remember you

Just like the hot coffee I sip everyday

Too bitter, too hot

But I like how it burns my tongue, numbing me for anything else

 

I remember you

With the rising of the hair on my arms

The tingling sensation all over

Yet my heart beating perfectly sound.

 

And now when I have to forget you

I have to forget my existence.

 

Lifeless

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Messed and entwined.

Like a promise to hold on.

Much like you made,

That night in the lawn.

 

One soul, you wowed.

Like a root,

Letting her children.

Branch out and bow.

 

On your knee you sat.

Messed everything up so bad.

Proposed me nonetheless.

Fool that i was, i said yes.

 

Beautiful as a sunny day.

Our marriage grew every day.

Not the way you would expect.

But, like the waist cut from a belt.

 

Kicked in the nerve so hard.

You shoved a blow.

I fell away too far.

Moment struck, we hit the low.

 

Now it’s just a mess.

I wait for your minute,

To confess.

But you won’t, knowing so, i leave my side of the bed.

 

Muddy and Crumpled


My fingers have dug in
Way too deep into my palms 
They have torn through the skin
Seeped deep till my bone
The hand drips 
Blood
And I hold the scrunched letter
Dipped in sheer red
As it soaks my agony
The sounds in distance 
Hold no meaning
Only the silent 
And orderly clatter 
Of your mud thrusted boots
Seems to matter
You haven’t looked back
In the nineteen seconds 
You walked away
And the hundreds of years’ worth
My hands and my heart have bled
I lift my hand 
To stop you, to make you stay
But my words fail me
I don’t know what to call you by?
Love? Darling? Sweetheart?
But would you know you’re still all those things 
To me?
All I can see through my upheld hand
Is that your figure grows smaller 
And the blood begins to clot
And fewer drops hit the floor
And then I finally let go 
Of your wedding invitation
Just where you stood three minutes ago
And of all the things 
I should’ve done
I step on the letter too
As I lay rest
To the muddy, crumpled love
That ours became. 


The Social Box

 

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Stepped in a box,

Looked giant, I was small.

I sat playfully,

Never complaining.

Mother smiled, father jovial.

 

All I did was play with toys,

Sometimes fall asleep with my car held close.

 

Trouble in the paradise,

When I turned four.

When father found I possessed more cars than the dolls.

Mother worried, bought me some new frocks.

With striped socks, I matched them to my shorts.

 

Soothing father, mother declared, it’s just a phase.

The phase became a period.

A chapter, now a hard bound book.

 

The giant box still present,

Sat in, but my ass won’t fit.

Mother and father don’t want me to play with cars,

Instead marry a guy who drives a lavish car.

Mom says no more frocks,

And a big cross on shorts.

No crop tops, they expose a lot.

Be a lady, wear sarees for sure.

 

Don’t sit cross legged,

It’s a crucial requirement on the ‘Lady list’ that needs to be checked.

 

How do I explain it to you mom,

Throw away the box now.

Neither will I fit, nor will I bow.

Beauty And Strength

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They say love is supposed to make you strong

But it didn’t.

It just frightened me to care of someone’s breaths

More than mine.

 

They say fear makes you strong

But it didn’t.

It made me listen to my heartbeats

Like a murderer’s footsteps.

 

They say childhood is beautiful.

But it isn’t.

It turned my laughter

Into muffled screams of unexplainable horror

 

They say adulthood is beautiful.

But it isn’t.

It has turned my ambitions

To imprison me into an unformidable jail.

 

So, through all my life, where was beauty and strength?

Embracing Your Lies

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I should have been wise.

Should’ve heard my heart’s cries.

As my body slowly dies.

For the love I once saw in your eyes.

 

Oh look, how the time flies.

Shattering your guise.

And I fall now, from the mirage of highs.

I think I pay a prize.

 

For wanting to reach the skies.

But I never thought of the clouds’ size.

Never knew they were allies

With your lies.

Marked

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Born in a hospital room, I was marked a girl.

Lying in the incubator, they labelled me with a name.

A name that would give my existence validation.

I had no say.

At 4, I was marked as a daughter.

My father’s hand hitting me hard across the face.

Too fragile to fight back, I cried.

I had no say.

At 14, I was marked as a girlfriend.

A kiss and my hands in his hair was all it took.

No matter my age, nobody ever asked.

I had no say.

Marks and scars grew with age

Hand in hand, pain and gains.

At 20, I was marked as a student.

He should’ve taught me psychology, but I got a piece of his mind.

Groping me by my waist, I stood there, numb, aghast.

Too humiliated to respond, I ran.

I had no say.

At 26, I was marked as a wife. On our wedding night.

His touch set my scars ablaze, like burning through a flame.

He’d come home every night, take me for 11 minutes and would push me over to my bed side.

Too used to sustain, I cringed at every turn with pain.

I had no say.

At 32, I was marked as a mother. It was a feeling like no other.

The little fingers touched my now yellow bruise.

I’ll never mark you, I said, it’s a truce.

No scars for you, no writhing with pain.

If there is, I’ll flush it down the drain.

You’ll always have a say.

Be marked, you never may.

I’ll Hold You

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Why didn’t you come?

I said I’d wait for you.

No matter how long I had to,

But I would.

And I know for sure,

That if not days,

If not months,

You would come by years later 

But you would.

But, you stomped on my trust and faith in you.

In time and in love.

You showed me a dusty mirror.

Which was squeaky clean with a promise of fruitful longing.

Again,

My love,

I ask of you.

Every time I offer you my hand, 

My hand is a tree.

A tree,

With branches for fingers.

Fingers that are lush

And fragrant of care and love.

Bloom, will flowers.

Once they feel you warmth.

Grab onto any one of them

I’ll make it the highest branch.

The branch which takes you closer to the sun, 

To all the warmth it has to offer.