The Armour.

Flaming red lips, clinking metal and glass, fingers slipping through pages turned,

Lazy curls falling down her nape, caressing what your fingers had dreamt of a million times.

Looking up you knew her kohl-lined gaze pierced right through and way beyond,

After all, it wasn’t a floating ghost you had opened the doors of your wounded soul to.

The endless talk hidden behind lit screens, a snug little corner, all you ever asked for,

Your imagination living stories that only your fingers could conjure up.

The moment of truth, that moment she had dreaded and you not,

The tables turned, with a blink of a veiled eye, vulnerabilities out on the lot.

A brave frontier? A naked fear? A clear blurred line, evidently obnoxious.

It wasn’t just your bubble anymore, but stark reality, in flesh and in bone.

You knew her story, you knew her hands, you knew her breath, you knew her kind.

But the only thing that you could fathom henceforth, was how much of you she knew or might.

All the hours after that you sat through, knowing you were running, running scared and running straight.

All the words you spewed that night, integrity forlorn, honesty denied.

Bits and pieces, your path traced by shattered facades or mere disappointment,

Were you running from her or your own shadow where your ghosts reside?

In holding up your weak tin walls, maybe you cracked open her steel-stoned vault,

Or maybe in her long line of breaches, you were the very last straw drawn.

Rest assured, she whispers poetry, she still draws dragons and traces stars,

A dragon she puts behind an armour now, an armour of everything that you were not.

Nostalgia.

Nostalgia is a bitch they say. I never understood what that meant until we stopped being who we were and became who we are right now. We are still us, the same people alright. But it doesn’t feel like the times are the same, obviously because things changed. But what things? Because I don’t remember there ever being a ‘thing’. Well, not anything that we acknowledged of course. You know what’s weird though, that nostalgia hits every single night, every damn sundown. And yeah, it does hurt like a bitch.

Remember the little game the PE teacher made us play back in school where we had to take a step forward for every ‘Yes’ to his questions? Yeah, I think that was our game. The only difference being that we weren’t in the same line like back in the day, we were at opposite ends of the court. We asked the questions, we answered the questions and we took the steps too. I guess I just didn’t realise the moment when I stopped asking them and just stayed in the game for you, but apparently you played by the rules only skipping the one that said you couldn’t skip mine.

Of course I do not understand, I never do to be honest. It’s funny, it doesn’t even make me mad anymore. I wasn’t even surprised when I realised I was halfway past the court by the time I saw that I had no audience, not even you. The game had ended, just like that, broken rules and well not broken but a slightly dented heart. So what are the rules now? Because I never made them, I only played to your tune. I told you I do not like games, half because I do not understand them and the other obvious half being that I somehow always lose.

I remember watching the sun go down together, swaying legs and beating hearts, we were never great talkers. Contrary to Harry’s beliefs, comfortable silence is so not over-rated. I liked the quiet with you, I liked that you just held my hand and didn’t kiss me when the sun went down. Kisses really weren’t our thing either, we were weird that way. Kindred spirits I called us, because we definitely weren’t soulmates. You didn’t understand my words, you said they weren’t made for you but you know what you said after though? You said you only listened to them because maybe I was made for you. You fucking bastard, always with the charm.

I’m still smiling writing this, I’m not mad and that kind of makes me mad if it makes any sense. I thought you meant something to me, that I owed you that sense of  togetherness. But turns out that I couldn’t have been more mistaken, you were okay on your own. You weren’t going to be my next charity case, and I definitely didn’t need one since I wished I could be someone’s myself. Even the thought of you makes me restless, only because I thought I’d let myself go again. I’m so glad I stayed sane, and I’m so glad you were way above my usual crazy dominoes. I call them dominoes because they always end up face down, never disappoint – not once.

I don’t think it’s you that I miss, I think it’s the way it felt to have what we had. I don’t know how it feels to you, specially with changed priorities but I feel a sense of emptiness. There is a space. Don’t get me wrong though, it isn’t uncomfortable or anything, it’s just very noticeable. My brain isn’t empty at the end of the day anymore, so many thoughts, so many many words. It’s hard to fall asleep knowing that you wouldn’t hold me for the same reasons, even if you did it would probably be because you were just too scared of a cold bed. It feels weird knowing that I’m probably not the last person you talk to anymore, definitely not the first person for sure.

You told me you had never been happier, I told you that it scared the hell out of me. You told me that you needed this, I told you that all I wanted to do was run away. You told me that I felt like home, I told you that it felt like a fucking storm. The day you knocked on my door at 3am, asking me if everything was alright; I swear to God I felt everything come crashing down. The irony of it all, our god-damned hearts. I hate your flannel shirts, I hate your stupid blue beads and I hate your stupid hugs that I never could resist. And you know what else I hate? I hate how you made me feel.

I let you in right at the time that you walked me out, I didn’t know and neither did you. I guess I lost my charm the day I held your hand before you held mine, you see, that was so not me and obviously you noticed. I watched you from across the table, smiling and talking just the same but your eyes wandered. It wasn’t other girls that caught your eye, it was just another life; a different future. You didn’t ask me if I’d written anything in my book anymore, you didn’t even tell me if you wrote anything in yours. I didn’t need to tell you the words that heartened me that day or the next or another, because I knew you didn’t care.

I’m not saying that you didn’t care about me anymore, because of course you did and you showed it too. You just didn’t care about us, the idea of us that you had planted yourself. You made extra effort, you brought home cake every Thursday, you tried almost too hard. The fact that even now I can’t just write a sentence and be done with it without going into an elaborate explanation just so you don’t misunderstand says a lot I think. We were never meant to be, just two lonely souls clinging to one another till the phase passed. It’s unfortunate though that yours passed sooner, and I’m still here trying to grab onto whatever little of it is left.

But you know what the hardest part of it all is? That it was all for nothing. My days are the same, actually better but the nights are just a little too long. You’re being so brave and pushing away, and you’re doing such a great job at it that’s it’s almost impossibly perfect. It’s not my Skype that rings when something is going on anymore, it’s just the door to your room that closes behind you. I still need to talk to you though, you don’t realize that and even if you do – you turn away. I don’t need you to be my wall, I need you to just let me be your shadow. I don’t need your cuddles anymore, because I sleep in your empty shirts these days.

You’ve let us slip too far, I let you do it but only after I tried clinging onto your shirt every damn night. But now I don’t feel the connection anymore either, honestly I’m starting to doubt if we ever even had one. Maybe all we had were your empty words, the castles you built in the air, making me its delusional princess. I am not going to give you peace by denying the hurt, I am not going to be a liar just because you thought it was okay to be one. I’m just going to let you go, just as easily as I let you in. That’s always been your specialty with me, hasn’t it? You get what you want, a little too easily. The room is empty once more, my bags are packed and unfortunately enough, so is my little heart.

Those Stars.

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

The little sparkling lights – light years away.

Against the thick black of the outer space,

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

 

As I extend my arms, hands reaching,

Trying to imagine what it’d feel like.

Putting aside all the science and theories,

If stars just felt like what the books described.

 

Tracing patterns, one twinkle to another,

Not just constellations but my very own mind.

Look between them, what seems like void,

Is endless, infinite, mysterious and oh so divine.

 

The night sky, the only constant, my constant respite,

Respite from you, from her, from air itself.

Breathing stardust, teasing glitter trails,

Making magic, all the while just laying there.

 

Lay by me, I’ll tell you stories; stories the stars told me themselves.

Hold my hand, I’ll pass you memories; memories I drew out of thin air.

Written in the darkness, colours picked straight out of galaxies,

Drawn blindfolded, just feelings of moments that will never be again.

 

What is beauty? You’ve held her before.

Kissed another? You’ve touched a lot more.

Look beyond, a mortal body but a miracle soul,

Look beyond, look past, look far away – eyes closed.

 

Do you want to fall in love with true beauty?

Beauty of the mind, like what your heart shows.

Or do you want to fall in like with the other kind?

The kind that doesn’t speak to you like the stars shone.

 

Little shimmery specks, blazing balls of fire and what not.

Yet so pretty, so fragile; like you could blow them away like a birthday light.

It’s like nature’s poetry, strung together with strings unseen,

When light can make music, that’s how the sky came to be.

 

Do you think they wish upon us like we do at their passage?

How many wishes could they possibly make, trying to keep up with our every fall?

If you listen close, you can hear them whispering secrets,

Secrets you can only decipher if your promises mean forevermore.

 

But alas, I feel like the last of the kind.

You right here, but yet your mind wanders.

It’s a gift they say, to be able to feel the universe within you.

A bigger gift, to be able to find words to put it into.

 

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

Of course, you see them, of course you see.

But what’s beyond and between, that’s only for me to keep.

Come lay by me, hold my hand, eyes closed – stay still baby.

Rain.

Like calming rain in the dark, pouring heavy, pouring on.

How could I ever escape the soothing downpour? How could I ever even breathe it all in?

Rushing through my hair, untangling and unfurling my golden locks,

But the flowers and the beads in my woven braid, washed away – baring it all.

Wiping away the masking glory, pulling at the shimmering volto,

As it falls away, my eyes reflect – someone I’ve never known before.

The pretty little boa around my neck, feathers curling up onto themselves – now overladen,

Dark slivers of a struggle unseen, now out for everyone’s cognizance.

My hands reach up with uncertainty, my fingers tracing the lines consciously.

The silken veil falls to the ground, my shoulders finally free,

All the crushing weight, forgotten – or maybe just so  it seems.

Just in a dress, in cloth as thin as air, shivering against the water, that snugly holds me everywhere.

Feet bare, the shackles still on, that’s one thing that will always be there,

Reminding me of days bygone, that i refuse to let go of, choosing to stay.
 

Is this just rain or is it a downpour of everything that I ever was?

Ever so elusive, considered a past, yet always everywhere.

I wrap my arms around myself, falling to the ground, pulling my knees into my chest,

There I am, drenched to the bone, almost naked but yet never there.

It always seems to wash over me, my body, every crevice and corner unseen,

But what i wish for truly is to be washed away completely, to not have a past, to not be me.

But each time, I’m left unsure of who I am and who I used to be,

Because here I stand, forever in a loop, nothing changing but just layers being peeled away.

With every cycle, I lose something, something that was never mine I feel,

Just afraid that when the last curtain is drawn, I’ll be nothing but air – invisible but on a stage.

 

 

Incomplete.

What is it in being incomplete that is considered a pity?

To be on your own, to be all alone, in a bustling city?

Do not confuse being incomplete to being lonely,

Lonely might be incomplete, but incomplete never lonely.

 

How can you be alone, lying in all of your pieces?

Just one or two missing, but yet all of it right there.

There is a certain peace, a certain sanctity,

To knowing yourself well enough, to believe in an infinity.

 

Because you’re never going to be complete,

Even if you travel a 1000 miles, a 1000 places.

Meet a million people, experience even more changes,

There are still going to be those few inevitable blank spaces.

 

Blank spaces are not always ugly or sad,

Like a sky full of stars with no one beside,

A simple sweet melody with no voice or rhyme,

Like clear white paper with no words by which to abide.

 

There is a beauty in incomplete things,

Like a forgetful old man’s random musings,

A single white rose, sitting alone on the windowsill,

A placid lake, with nothing in it or on, water just still.

 

If we can relish the wonder of such inanimate things,

Why question the incompleteness of a human being?

Revel in people, revel in their being, revel in the life that they choose to lead,

Because everyone has a story, a story being written, a story to believe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Dream Catcher.

I look back at the footprints I’ve left behind,
They’ve gotten stronger, harder, somehow more defined.
What were once dragging feet, crawling knees & a slumped body,
Now stand firm with another pair beside.

I remember pulling along so many anchors,
Anchors of iron, so heavy, hooked to my bones with heavier chains.
I was chased by a wolf, into darkness, into darker despair,
Only to be rescued by a dream, by a mesmerizing catcher!

I remember falling through you, falling right in,
A sigh of relief escaping my dry, scabbed lips.
The knowledge of having been rescued, ringing in my ears,
I looked back as cool breeze hit my burning bare back..

My dreamcatcher!

So inconspicuous, so pristine, so silent & still..
Just swaying in the wind, with all the metal lying just beyond..
It was hard to believe how perfectly I fit into you, letting all fall away, fall behind..
What had once seemed unreachable, I was lying now, right in its arms.

I fall asleep everyday, to the sound of your voice..
Your poetry that you trace onto my skin, curling designs with your fingers.
I pretend to be asleep sometimes, just to hear you say things you wouldn’t say otherwise,
To hear you say me, say my name, say my heart,
Realizing them to no more be mine, too far gone to ever come back.

I thought I’d never write a love song again, thought I’d protect myself from people who do..
But here I am, today, unable to stop, unable to hold it in anymore.
Because some things need to be written about,
Words just flowing, a desire to just write, write about you.

Dream-catchers catch dreams they said, keep you safe from all evil,
I was running away from a nightmare myself, only to be caught by you..
So was I the dream, & you my catcher?
Or were you the dream I was chasing all along?

Maybe I thought I was running away from another, running from an infinity,
Not knowing, not even a hint, that I was probably running right at you, right where I belong.
Call this fate, call this destiny, just like your poem said,
We’re only fated to do things that we always wanted.

Those hazel eyes, that awkward smile, you say I make your breath catch.
You’ve no idea how many beats a day my heart skips, how many fluttering butterflies.
You’ve written me many, read to me some, so here it is my love,
My ode to you, to me, to us.. To something far beyond!

P. S. As we always have inside stories, here is one too. 😉

From Cather & Levi, to Whiskey & Rye,
Cake & Casserole, Jack & Sally, all the way to diagon alley,
This is our riddle, like one of your silly old country songs,
Only we know what they mean, to everyone else mere mumble stringed along. 😉

My Paper Heart.

Ink blotches, soft curves, hazy lines & erratic words.

Can be redone, rewritten, but not replaced.

John Green called me a ‘ Paper Girl’,

But he knew not of my paper heart.

 

Guess I’ve always had paper for a heart,

For everyone to etch their name on,

Some leaving mere fingerprints, some just their names,

Others searing right through it all.

 

Memories washed away with spilled coffee,

Names over-written in obnoxious hot pink,

Crinkled paper, withered with seasons,

Otherwise intact, over-laden with ink.

 

In a valley, overlooking a dazzling river, horses on the riverbed,

Morning drizzle, some fresh brew, & a hint of strong nicotine.

That is how you’re etched on here too,

Chains & a beanie et al, black from head to toe.

 

Rest assured, the rest of your story,

I’ve taken up the task to scribble in too.

No blurry faces, no moment archived & forgotten,

I’ll write you in in shiny bright red letters, with no further ado.

 

& for nostalgia’s sake, here you go..

When I said I like being alone, but then asked you to take a walk with me..

& you just did, like that was what you wanted too.

& that little stranger, that was when i knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Change.

Flaws are subjective, my love.

The statement rings true, each time I see you.

I find it inexplicable that you’ve been hurt, betrayed & trudged upon,
Just like everyone else, like every one of us.
How could someone so precious be a subject to such deviance?
Your smile defies any signs of struggle,
The glint in your eyes promising a million fantasies, gone & to come.

Rediscovering highways each time you whisk me away,
Leaning into your warmth when hit by the chill of the night,
Saying things I swore to never say ever again, pulling down walls I meant to never break again,
You’re pulling me out, pulling me apart, but surprisingly, I think I’m starting to prefer it this way.

I’m starting to listen to my old Playlist again, only revived by new memories that are inevitably being made.
There seems to be no guilt that I dreaded would come with any change,
It’s getting easier with each passing moment, to savour life for what it is than what I thought it would be like.

Coffee is stronger, stars shinier,
Nights are serene, & days just brighter.
Added colour to the dull, another accent to my already strange diction,
Superheroes & rappers, shared paper & ink, lyrics & doodles, lights & silk.

Like I’ve told you already, I make promises baby & I make them for keeps,
Let me stay dreamy, let me sing to you, let me write you things,
In return I’ll give you destiny, whatever is supposed to be,
Because baby, that’s the only promise that can be kept I believe.

So hear again when I tell you, flaws are subjective, my love.
I’ve learnt to see myself the way you do, & I think I’m falling for myself again or maybe I’m falling for you.

She, who’ll never be.

She may never be your’s,
May never be who you wish she’d be.

She may never be your leading light that shows the way,
But be the blinding darkness that engulfs & consumes your every sway.

She may never be the fire engine, swooping into your rescue.
But be the very fire that ignites the depths of your heart, spinning its beat askew.

She may never be your anchor, founding you into your stance.
But be the very wind that pulls you along, forced to keep rhythm to her dance.

She may never be the soothing warmth of your day,
But be the unsettling cold that chills your flesh & makes your bones rattle away.

She may never be the music that soothes you to sleep,
But be the big bang that jolts you awake from the stagnation you ohh so grudgingly keep.

She will hurl you into the unknown, push you against the tide,
Drown you in testing waters, but always by your stride.
She’s not meek nor mild nor gentle, definitely not some disappearing rime,
But she personifies dignity & elegance like she owns the goddamn time.

She’ll be the thunder, the storm, the fright,
The veiled mystery of a silent dark night.
She’ll be anything you wish not to see,
Because baby, that is who she chooses to be.

Blue Converse

I had reached the end of the book, my coffee was cold. I hated that typical feeling you get when something so amazing comes to an end, the feeling of knowing that it was over forever. There was no way I could relive how the book made me feel, no way to feel the rush of first-times. When I looked up to ask for a fresh brew, after placing the book aligned to the edge of the table as per habit, little did I know that it would be the beginning of something that books could never give me. 🙂

You walked in. The first thing that struck me – Blue Converse. It still remains to be the first thing that strikes me each time I see you, there is always something blue on you. 🙂

You were with a bunch of people, all happy and having an overtly animated conversation. You were somehow quieter, you were talking but there was just something placid about you. There was a soothing ‘something’, something that I couldn’t put my finger on. And it struck me, “The calm before the storm.” 🙂

Shruti called, I picked and I didn’t realise how long it had been. I looked longingly at my cup of coffee, mentally willing it to heat itself and frowned as I looked around for a waiter. I had forgotten you, entwined in the twisted world of besties. Someone placed a fresh brew in front of me, I looked up confused. The waiter just smiled a knowing smile and said, “Complimentary ma’am.” and pointed at your table. 🙂

Those were the first smiles we exchanged. You nodded, I did too. I didn’t realise when I cut Shruti’s call, maybe I never did, I still don’t really know. No sparks, no pixie dust, no violins, no cupid. It felt like a reunion, something found rather than created. You walked over. 🙂

The smile just refused to leave my face, you laughed when you reached my table, probably knowing that the same was happening to you too. It was husky, a boyish laugh – the kind that suddenly was my favourite thing in ages. Your friends were laughing in the background, calling names. I heard it for the first time, a name that I’d probably known forever. Or that was how it felt atleast. 🙂

Polite pleasantries exchanged, a compliment thrown at my cherry blush. You smelled familiar, you sounded familiar, everything about you was somehow ‘known’. It was but a conversation that probably lasted two minutes. You stood up and turned to leave, looked back after a step or two. You repeated my name, it slid like silk from your lips, like it was always meant to do just that. 🙂

You sat back at your table, somehow making it extremely unfair for me to be at a different one. I fidgeted with my book, all along fighting the urge to look up. Finally, I stood up to leave, caffeine ingested and bill paid. Walking out of the cafe was weirdly difficult for some reason. I beckoned at a passing rickshaw, got in and not knowing what to do, I looked at the stash of tissues that I had absent mindedly picked up on my way out. And there they were, 10 digits. 🙂

Just like before – No fairytale bells, no knight in shining armour, no cherry blossoms. No Jacob black, no Augustus Waters, no Quentin Jacobson. But still it was something, probably something a lot more than any words on paper ever proclaimed. We didn’t need a John Green or a Stephenie Meyer or a Cecelia Ahern to write our story, we would write our own, just like all stories are meant to be written.

And that was it. As simple as that. 🙂