I was lying wide awake. Tried to sleep. Couldn't. The window was open. Wind was blowing. It was cold. Really cold. I wanted to shut the window. Couldn't get up. So, I just kept staring at the window. Hoping someone would come in and shut it. But, the door was locked. The night passed away. I couldn't shut the window. And the cold didn't go away.
1) I Exist in between the day and the night.In the afternoon poems and some upsetting drafts.The drafts travel with me from the old bus stop to the time when midnight walks kisses my parched throat.The empty glasses and the stained plates write poetries on my behalf whenever i lose sanity on a hot summer afternoon.Poetries exist in between the evenings the ones that reek of arguments and the nights that reek of troubled relationships.
- I breathe because that's all i know Death has not befriended me yet.
2) I Exist in between the old love songs and the bridge of heartbreaks.The long drives settled between kilometers and Cities.The rare view mirror rarely watched the tears now - Just the fake smiles mattered.Poetries exist in between those albums where hugs were the only medium of finding warmth and peace and the tears were not always meant for heartbreaks sometimes the distance troubled the eyes too.The ripped seats of that old wagonR still reminds me of you and aimlessly wandering poems on my nose,Lips and the forehead.
- I"ll tear apart cities and maybe countries, Don't ever mess with my heart otherwise I can tear your belief of me being a saint.
3) I Exist in between the Depressed summers and Moody winters.Of how those 20 minutes dance session with you on a depressing day worked as a painkiller. "Your fingers dance with my fingers Your feet turns the radio on with the tapping, The moment your body collided with mine, Summers turned winters, & I became a Criminal with any crime"
The poetries lends an ear to the resteless rants and those existing yet non existing thoughts.They are turning cold with winters.The once full of clarity heart has now turned foggy from so much love leaving one with multiple conclusions of whether "The love that the loved ones are showering is real or an another prank that they love to play on you when you finally feel "You are satisfied with your life"
- I loved you enough I guess "Love me back" - I don't believe in begging for what's not mine"
1) No one knows and maybe no one ever will.I have hidden that monday within my black jacket where i cried for hours.The pockets had enough space because of being square shaped.I stored the tears within but when they stepped inside they sank within the fabric leaving me with one thought "Is it because it's their second home" First one being my brown eyes.They tried to live their for days, for months but when they stopped getting fit within them they escaped when they witnessed the quarrel,The Marks on the right cheek, The deep cuts on the rough wrists.
- I tried holding them for long, They were the only ones who accepted my every wrong.
2)No one knows and maybe no one ever will.I accepted that i have flaws, That i don't fit within the crowd of those beautiful people -I believe i don't.I accept that i am a liar -Of how i lied every morning that i smiled the previous night,Of how i lied that i hate smiling because my jaw starts to get hurt if smiled even for few seconds.Judgements do hurt -From summers to winters,From autumn to spring -They hurt too much.Tears never get of tired coming back again and again.The pain in the chest and in the head.That feeling never leaves.It kills and gulps my every ounce of hope that i try to build even after my castle of expectations was kicked by everyone again and again.
- I try to breathe after getting choked, I am still breathing after they tightened the rope.
3) No one knows and maybe no one ever will.Somedays It's tough to hold the tears in the fist.Tightly closing the eyes, Rubbing the eyes furiously, Breathing in and out -Nothing worked and nothing will ever work.The mirror shows you how weak you are with those swollen eyes and the red nose.No matter how hard i try to fake the smiles, I try to fit with people who were never mine and will never be with me.I tried finding warmth within people who knows nothing except spreading coldness.I was wrong and maybe I deserve those tears.They live within me and will always live within me only.
- I accepted the tears, the accusations were right, And Tears came to me when alone at night
the sky hangs above us like a cracked ceiling; an unravelling tapestry of grey warping along the edges. Birthing in the embrace of quietitude somewhere, raindrops trace the spine of a river and it swells under the weight of gentle fingers, caressing the rough contours of its being. the cold cheek of the moon against a rusted window, and the shivering skin of the ocean reminds me of how love is just another metaphor for loss.
in the warmth of this molten longing; your breath falls unflinching on my cold skin, this weightlessness too heavy to carry. your hands cradle my whims to slumber. tenderness unveilied in the arch of a palm and it dawns upon me that how even when every touch hollows me out, bit by bit, I want to fill every crack of my being with this emptiness. the words escape your mouth half-fractured - jagged pieces of tin. this is our becoming, our unbecoming.
I shatter hopelessly in the arms of the moment, and crawl upto you in this wretchedness nurturing us in its shadow. a broken smithereen of porcelain in an endless sea of yearning, how no one handled you with care. your name tastes like tar against my tongue and this love is a language I will never learn.
the sky murmurs softly to the crevices of the earth - the anatomy of a conversation falling out of the realm of words. this longing too pronounced in the moisture of my eyes; cascading down into sheer affection. your fingers breathe life into my otherwise barren body.
What do we stay for if not the familiarity of grief? the bare bones of a memory we have spend our lives cradling, an agony we lull to stupor each night, a loss that ripens in the warmth of our arms, every season?
what is this pain if not a dull symphony playing out in an empty background, receding yet never fading away completely?
Outside, raindrops caress the face of a river; a cold sliver of silver against the December sky and a shivering desire. despite the storms the moon wages under her skin, the ocean never stops holding on, does she?
- Kainat // of shivers and slivers // _______________________________