Are you okay?

The false crinkles that bound your eyelids,

After having gibberish pretentious giggles,

And when you say you are okay,

Your whole world seems to be a mirage of desert.

Your eyes speak louder than your words,

Your smile is a rare beauty I get to see,

And when you say you are okay,

Your whole world seems to be a trap.

The way you hold on to my hand,

Refusing to let go for you love me so much,

And when you say you are okay,

Your whole world is captive you are trying to escape.

You don't show or tell it to anyone...

You want to fade away as someone's dream,

You want to run away and hide in the dark,

You want to be here and so much want not to..

And when you say you are okay,

Your whole world is falling apart.

And even after knowing all this, I ask you, 

"Are you okay?".

"Are you, my love?".

Why.

Tell me why,
empty passages
are not so empty
with just one extra person.

Tell me why,
lonely tunnels
are not so scary
with just one extra person.

Tell me why,
sad nights
are not so uncomfortable
with just one extra person.

Tell me why,
the milestones
are not so far apart
with just one extra person.

Tell me why,
those pictures
are not so absurd
With just one extra person.

Tell me why,
none of us
still feels like ,
that one extra person,
despite being so.

How to love yourself?

HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF?

i.

How do you seek for the love you have never,seen never felt, never wondered about. About the precious moments that you make work to make things about you work and you so much fiercer amd wiser.

 

ii.

The exoskeleton of strength you built fighting the world day in and day out,hidden underneath which is the mess of emotions and unpredictable thoughts that makes the core being of the real you. The bold strokes of colours on the canvas of your soul hidden by the monotone of your shell.

 

iii.

You are the rolled up sleeves and dirty hands,oh so gentle across your cheeks. You are shoes worn form wandering and wanderlusting. You are a coin, a coin with two sides sharing the same metal. You are the annoying optimism ,with a belief that things can and always will get better.

 

iv.

What is a love prettier than rain?

Pitter-Patter fell the rain drops off the clouds, fearless as they pretend. Eager to embrace their fate destined to them either to turn into a pearl in the womb of a shell deep in ocean's depth, or to just attain its sandy desert casket.

 

v.

All I ask my darling is for you to stop being stuck in a loop of meagre things, morning this, evening that. Look my love for the purple skies, the diamond-studded nights, the moon light in your solarium that blinds, leaving behind the fragile glow of your passion. And believe me, it will guide you home.

 

vi.

How indeed do you break the stereotype of the things you think you have in control, later spite you in ways you could never think of. Break them. Because you are anything but a stereotype.

 

Together Us

The winds had our scents

the rains couldn't tell lies,

In that moment, we dreamt,

With our open eyes...

 

We had finally met,

a bouquet of roses,

with our heart melt,

we forget our losses...

 

The dream was followed,

for the sun to wake up in our light,

so the window borrowed,

our untainted sight...

 

Now the ball of fire can rest,

in our glory it breathes,

so we will save our love for the rest,

Cause out of jealousy, the moon at night,

it bleeds...

 

 

 

More than meets the eye.

Ever care to wonder there's something more than meets the eye??

Driving around in a car watching the blur of mobile and immobile beings just moving past you.

The trees that shed the flowers like little ballerinas in a snow globe twirling to the song of the wind.

The laughter of a street jester, the cries of a baby demanding to be fed,the vivid noise of the speakers that vibrates to the passerby's heart.

The foods, the smells, the faces, the language, the noise, the silence. The deafening silence waiting to be heard.

May be there is more than the blur while you drive, you could be the possible blur going in and out of the focus. The state that changes with every possible step waiting for the change at every nook and corner.

The world that only seems to disgust a look at the ugly face fails to uncover a pretty face of its deviled heart. If only what met the eye was enough.

We see, we despise, we curse little children knocking over the windshield for pennies to feed the family. If only it met the eye of a 10-year old becoming the bread winner, of him having to toss his childhood to a pyre his parents were fed to.

Hate the look of somebody's shoes? Mismatched, over worn, repaired over and over again or just simply torn. You wouldn't know how hard he worked to own a pair. If only the struggle could travel with the light of appearance, and your feet walked in his shoes.


We see the world. We claim to see every thing that meets the eye, but may be there is more than what makes its image on the fovea capitis.
Every person a different legend. Every face a different story. Every scar a different history. All of it miles apart and still interwoven to the threads of their literal being, together in the tread marks they left.

We claim we see.
We do indeed.
Though only see.