; Ghosts from the past

I woke up two hours later than
I should have.
A heavy blanket of dissatisfaction and
Disgust wrapped around me,
I realized I was late for school, again.
I have been sleeping too much.
Mornings are the worst.
Now that I think about it,
So are the evenings and
The sleepless nights.
As the day went by,
As dusk rolled in,
Crawling through graves of hope
And perennial blooms of uncertainty,
I reached the edge of the cliff.
“Should it feel like a leap of faith”, I wondered!

I jerked awake.

Ghosts from a distant past keep visiting me;
Only to reassure, nothing can be worse than
The certainty of an end.

End, therefore,
Was stalled mid-flight.


The poet from the future

Every time I knock
And you’re not there,
I fall into an abyss
I never knew

Every time I knock
And you’re asleep,
A few hundred miles away,
Another me from a time unseen
Visits, brings in words
I never thought I’d see.

Barely yours

There’s something
About a story of desire; one that
Invokes pleasure,
Invites guilt,
Leaves the soul bare, and masked
At the same time.

It was one such story
That stole my breath.
Skeptical, I longed to take a step back,
As my heart decided to skip a beat.

Incorrect rhythms and awkward moves

As it rains,
The overcast sky and
The humid air
Add to the love
We’ve never shared.

I can’t possibly tell you
How beautiful you look
In my arms, your head
Hung in submission,
As we dance to immortal beauty;
As you waltz to my
Incorrect rhythms and
Awkward moves.

My precious composition
Tears apart, losing
All meaning, and then some,
As you patiently listen,
Never seeing, it was you
Who I dreamt of.

The Sound of Death

What is the sound of
A breakdown like?
Is it like the deafening roar of thunder,
Or is it like a canonball on fire?

If you asked me,
I would say, it is exactly like
Silence, and painfully so.
A silence so prolonged,
You cease to believe you exist,
Or the world around you.

The silence is implosive,
The most cruel form of damage ever.
There is nothing more pathetic
Than something killing you
From the inside.

However, it gets worse
When that something is your own self.
No one dares say, ‘keep safe distance from yourself’.
If one could, that would be the end of the path,
And all these words would scream, rather
‘Beg’ for mercy.

And I hate begging.

Them, women!


To those amazing women
Who have given us the best gifts in life:
Our firsts!

This evening,
As I sit drenched, intoxicated, and content,
Accompanied by the warmth of the snow,
Outside my window, and
The golden hue swirling inside the cylindrical crystal
On my matte, dark desk, resting
Restlessly on a coaster,
I wish to get happily lost
In the memories
Left behind, labeled ‘regrets’;
The ones I vowed, never to see again.

As I give in to the whims of fluid gold,
Moments hidden in memories
Hit me: the first night,
The first time staying up till dawn
With tea warming our hands,
Smoke blurring your face as I looked on;
The first sip of scotch;
The day we skipped work together;
The first breakfast we ever shared;
The dinner we never went to;
The day you sang to me
Lost in yourself,
And probably, a little bit in me.

Ah, I remember it all

As I live the day, when one of you
Introduced me to a magic named