Games people play

 There are days when I feel

That everything and everyone

Are too complicated for little old me

With my heart frozen at 18

Forgetting to mature

While everyone else was busy

Acquiring the crafty masks of adulthood.

Hopelessly naive

Maybe even stupid

Always wondering - what did I do wrong?

Oh how I wish I could learn the rules

Of the games that people play

As easily as I learnt the order of planets

In our slice of the Milky Way.

Twin Souls

Skin & thoughts

You're branded on my skin and my thoughts

So deeply that I'm scarred

By the strength of your passion.

Ending each day in a fevered haze

My skin in agony

That only your touch can relieve.

Sometimes, I don't know if I'm feeling my feelings 

Or yours.

On any given day,

Everything's mixed up

In a hot & beautiful way.

Maybe

I was happier before 

Emptier but happier.

Now

I have this constant want

A dull torture that never ends

And yet, I choose this

Over that.

This thing between you and me

It's mutating magic

Otherworldly, supernatural 

Woven out of the threads of our desire 

My favorite place to be?

In your thoughts.

I don't always have the luxury of crying 

Letting all that pain flow away

The hurt lost in a river of salty tears 

Allowing calm to take over, at least temporarily 

I'm not always alone, you know

All I can do then, is swallow lump after lump 

The tears frozen in my throat

The hurt balled up in my chest

Only a stray drop trickling out of my eye,

Nearly unseen.

Let me kiss old photos of you

Push my love through the barriers of time

And hope that you feel the echoes of my desire

All through the years of your existence.

A kiss for every version of you

Young and old

I want them all 

Maybe I always did

I'm sure I always will.

I oscillate between misery and arousal

Teary and hurting one moment

Nauseous with desire the next 

My insides a chaos no one can make sense of

But you.

If I kiss old photos of you,

Will they time travel?

Would you feel my lips

Through the barriers of time?

When you sleep, I almost feel

Like I'm taking advantage of you

Enjoying uncensored access to your sweet thoughts 

Of me and us

Kissing you when I like

And invading your dreams at will 

I'm sorry if you haven't been sleeping too well, mein Schatz

But I can't help but take advantage 

And I think I might do it again

Tonight.

Every night, you tour my body 

Redefining 'slow travel'

With your endless kisses

And searching caresses 

Ever curious, ever thirsty

To discover more.

Is it all just in my head?

The little games we play

You and I

In our secret universe 

That straddles space & time

To make it seem

As though your fingers were entwined in mine

But it'll never come to be -

It's impossible.

Our lips shall never meet

It's forbidden.

But I hope you'll do

Something you'll regret

Because for sure, I won't.

But in the meantime,

What do I do with this crippling desire?

All this pent-up fire?

Soar high, like an untamed bonfire?

Stoke me no further. No further.

Or I shall curtain the whole world in flames

Just to reach where you are - 

Together in oblivion at last.

My thoughts find their way to you

The way homing pigeons find their way home.

Even when I don't mean to,

Inevitably, I find myself thinking 

Sweet thoughts of an even sweeter you. ❤️

Being with you

Being with you is like being in a labyrinth with no exit

And at every turn

And every corner

Awaits a monster I don't want to face

Endless allusions

And inexhaustible reminders

Of bogeymen from my childhood days

Every night - an expectation of dread

Fulfilled in myriad creative ways

Every day - painfully predictable

Our conversations a pointless loop

Being with you is like being imprisoned

A life sentence with no plea bargain.

And if my tears were pearls,

I'd have all the oceans' worth of jewels with me.

Even though you're here,

it feels like you died a while ago.

It feels like you're a spirit

Here to soften the blow.

And every day, I wake under the illusion

That we're still together

And as the day matures,

The realization sinks in

That you've actually been gone

For a while now.

I'm like an Alzheimer's patient

Who has to remember their lover's name

Afresh

Every single day.

And in the beginning, my poems were about desire and longing. 

But as the love withered, I went silent.

Until one day, the poetry returned.

Only this time, my poems are about sadness and wondering

Wondering where it all went wrong.

I always knew, our story would end before the world ever knew it had begun. Like the sound of a falling tree in an empty forest - real, yet non-existent, with no one to hear and no one to mourn.

You love me,

But not enough to spare me nightmares.

You want me,

But not enough to stop fantasizing about other women.

My poems were about too much

And yours, if they were to exist,

Would be about too little.

And never the twain shall meet.

Sunny days

 

The sun and the time

I think they're having a secret love affair

For on the sunniest of days,

Time moves at a slow, languid pace

Like the opening notes of a love song.

Even the wind appears to slow down 

Coaxing only lazy shivers from the sun-warmed trees

And their shadows

On sun-warmed windows.

Everything that the sun touches

Glows with pleasurable warmth -

The kind that rises inside you,

When you take a deep swill of whiskey.

The wispy summer clouds and the July pollen

They slow down too,

For on the sunniest of days,

Time stretches like a string of gum

Almost convincing you 

That the day will never end

These balmy hours suspended in time 

Everlasting, like the lingering taste of a passionate first kiss.

Through space and time

Whatever you do, don't shut me out. ❤️

Let me kiss old photos of you

Push my longing through the barriers of time

And hope that you feel the echoes of my desire

All through the years of your existence.

A kiss for every version of you

Young and old

I want them all

Maybe, I always did

I'm sure I always will.

Living in my head

My favorite place to be? In your thoughts.

When you think of me,

I feel like you're with me

Living in my head

Flowing through my blood

Breathing my breaths

And feeding my desire

When you think of me,

it's like an embrace for my soul

And when you stop,

everything's cold and silent and empty

It's only then that I realize

How warm your presence felt

And how much it brimmed with love(?) & longing.

Sometimes, I feel like there's no distinction between us

Where do I begin and where do you end?

I couldn't really say.

At times, I don't know if I'm feeling my feelings

Or yours.

On any given day,

Everything's mixed up

In a hot and beautiful way.

Aftershocks of desire

I reel

under aftershocks of desire

For hours after

Twinges coursing through my veins

Setting my cells on fire

So unbearable

So pleasurable

All I can do is close my eyes

And wait for the sweet storm to pass

Or hope to be trapped in its grasp forever.

Stupid crybaby

Stupid crybaby

Never been able to get a handle

On the damned waterworks

Never been able to put a censor on

Or stem the flow of my feelings

Stupid, stupid, stupid

No idea how I got here

But here I am

Naked as a newborn babe

With nothing at all to shield me

From the numbing pain of my hurting heart.

A little too much

If I wanted you less,

it would be so much simpler

my emotions in check

and not a rollercoaster ride

through highs and lows

that leave me feeling

painfully uncertain

But as things stand,

I want you a little too much.

If I missed you less,

I'd be in a much better place

Not battling cravings

for you

Every waking second.

But as things stand,

I miss you a little too much.

If I loved you less,

it would be so much easier

my heart safer

my days calmer

But as things stand,

I love you a little too much.

Winter

Every year, I feel the bite of winter anew.

The clouds of mist and the changing view,

the morning frost and the silvery greys

breathe whispers of short but melancholy days.

The melting snow and the bare-boned trees

Line the yards, the parks, and entire cities.

Autumn's last leaves offer a final escape

From winter's monochromatic landscape.

And when nothing of colour remains,

Moondust will leave behind its wintry stains.

A life spent in hiding

I have lived

A life spent in hiding

From people

From shadows

From all the myriad things

That strike fear into my timid heart

But I do so love this cave 

This cocoon that I've built for myself

Where it's dark and lonely

But ever so peaceful.

And like a tortoise,

I carry my cocoon wherever I go

It keeps me safe

It keeps me calm

When I can't say the same of the world.

It has been my life's mission

To put into words

The things that don't have a name

Like this feeling

That maybe I haven't lived enough

But there is no 'Enough' when it comes to Life.

There is only Death.

Some kind of alchemy

I sing for you, my growing toddler

And sometimes, your eyes seem as enthralled

as that 4 month old who used to lie back

unable to do much else

yet, content (most times)

to gaze at mama's silly antics.

And I know it's you, still

and it was you, then

but somehow, every version of you lives on

independently.

Your growth is some kind of alchemy

A transformation not quite linear

And every day, I have the gift of a new you

With the bittersweet knowledge of past yous

Because every you, my darling

Has been more perfect than the bluest sky and the sweetest apple

Every you has been a reminder

That there is nothing mundane about humanity

And everything magical about growth.

Pain and poetry

All art is an explosion

of built up pain.

The pain builds up slowly

brick by brick

until it forms a wall

that can only be broken

by the flourish of the pen.

The right words will write themselves

and poetry will rain down on the wall,

filling the air with the fragrance of moist cement.

Once inflamed and throbbing,

the pain will now be a thing of wistful beauty;

its scent -

reminiscent of their own sweet sorrows

to all those who walk by.

No photos of autumn this time

Sadly, I have no photos of autumn this time

I was far too busy

Watching the motion of the falling leaves

The way they sang

One last song. 🍁

I was too caught up

Walking through groves of gold

More precious than gems and stones

And so much more fleeting. 🍂

I was unable to tear myself away

From gardens cloaked in autumnal rainbows

Gently nudged by a frosty wind

To surrender to winter. 🍃

Now all I have left to photograph

Is a lone tree in a carpeted park

That refuses to acknowledge the advent of December

Like me, it was too wrapped up in nature's magic

To notice the passage of time. ⏳

Post-Shower Bliss

That feeling of contentment after a long, warm shower

When thoughts have settled and the mind has quietened

And the body feels lighter

Somehow.

And the pace of the world is

Just right.

And the silence sinks in as I lie on my bed

Listening to the sound of the traffic.

With the windows shut, it's only a low murmur

Almost a lullaby.

And if I fell asleep now, I know I would not dream

Except perhaps of a light blue sky

And thin, white clouds

Drifting along

As I drift now

Into my cocoon of post-shower bliss.

Rainy days

I do love rainy days

The way the droplets cloak my windows

In a silvery, eyelid mosaic

With the more adventurous ones careening down

To meet their watery, window-pane fate.

I like the way the sky has no gradient

An equal grey

And the sound of the raindrops means

I have no need to open my music player.

I like the way the tar roads reflect car wheels - 

Like dusty mirrors upon the earth

And the chill that stings the air

For it makes my tea feel warmer

And the day seem cosier.

Stay home, the rain seems to say

And watch me fill up the rivers.

And when you drink a glass of water,

think of me prepping for my next performance.

Not a native speaker

But I'm not a native speaker

Never mind that

The first book I

read

At 7 -

Devoured

Dreamed

Imagined

And smelled

Was in English.

Never mind that

The first article I

had to my name

At 8 -

A tale

Simple but true

Was in English.

Never mind that

When I dreamed

And thought

And wove realms of fantasy

I only used

English.

Never mind that

When hope abandons

me

And tears beckon -

I pray

In English.

I have slowly and with some measure of bitterness realized, that Indians aren't considered 'native' English speakers. This word - 'native'; it has grated on my nerves ever since I stepped out of the country. No one owns any language, even if it's your mother tongue. Languages are so complex, products of thousands of years of evolution and innumerable additions, subtractions, borrowings, and layering. And they are like babies; anyone can adopt a tongue and make it their own. The poem above encapsulates my feelings on the "official" classification of "native" English speakers, as someone who has heard, spoken, read, and written English since she was born. I do speak four other languages (three Indian, and one European) but for better or worse, English IS my primary language.

I don't want a tribe.

You talk to the opposite sex -

They say ‘Find your tribe’

You marry outside your caste –

They say ‘Find your tribe’

You go to another city -

They say ‘Find your tribe’

You go to a different country –

They say ‘Find your tribe’

But I say -

My tribe’s the whole world

And everything that walks upon it

And all that lies between the sky and the earth

And all that lurks beyond

And if not,

I’d rather stand alone.

We are a blessed generation

The human race -

We bear the burden of many sins,

But also the gift of creation.

So much pain,

Yet so much beauty.

We are a blessed generation.

Not forsaken -

But drowning in the bounty

Of limitless possibility.

I just want to breathe.

Don't want no gold. No diamonds.

Just my peace. My privacy.

My little piece of sweet paradise.

Don't want to pretend. No fake smiles.

No small-talk. No cognitive dissonance.

Just silence, punctuated by bird song

And the stillness of untouched forests.

No complication. Just simplicity. Purity.

Don't want to navigate

The quagmire of human expectations.

I just want to breathe

And write the story of my heart.