Mercy Partner

Has craving to hear a 'Take care of yourself' than an 'I love you' got anything to do with growing old?

I think so.

When I sit alone for dinner and my spoon plays with cold noodles, I wish- just a little, that you appear out of thin air and scold me for being such a mess.

I remember your words,
'Nothing can make me hate you. Nothing.'

On a blank page, I make a list of probable 'Nothing's.
When the page gets filled, I crumple it up and throw away.

I can't take that risk. Not with you.
So I decide to lie to you.
Because I need you when no one cares.

My Prisoner

I have a courtroom inside my head.
Arguments go on for hours.
I never plead innocent, I just stare around- burning in the fire of my own regrets.
Seriously, no-one saves me.
I announce my sentence as I burn.
Guilty verdict, every time.

With dead eyes and empty brain, I crawl in the bleak prison cell
chained in my own sins
fists of shame stuffed in my mouth
Seriously, no-one saves me.
I laugh at myself in the sense of righteousness.
Justice served, every time.

Some sunny days, (it feels like sunny days, I don't know- my cell has no window), I come as a visitor.
My palms smell of rust of iron and eyes feel myself behind the bars.
'Why did you have to do that? You were good.'
'It just happened. I am sorry.'
I mutter through bloody lip and bruised forehead.

No bail, no parole.
Such is this courtroom inside my head.
Seriously, no-one saves me.
Because I don't even want to be saved.

Goddess of Mess

Thank God you don't meet me anymore.
Or where would I hide my face?
When the world pushed me away,
weren't you my only hiding place?

I fall in puddles of lust every other day
I stumble on carcasses of my goodness in every room and hallway
Now I am Goddess of Mess
Fallen from my grace

My eyes don't shine of pride now
These days, my reflection looks away in disgust
Failures are building nests in my hair
and innocence lies in a corner full of dust

Layers of makeup and lips stained wine red
Wouldn't you call me fake?
Maybe you'd hug me out of pity, wouldn't you?
For old times' sake..

I wouldn't tell you what a coward I have been,
Falling for mirage, even as it vanished
Begging, banging my fists on the gates
of a town that has got me banished...

Shove your disappointment in my face if we meet 
'You were never like this! I never thought you'd change like seasons!'
Make me sob and watch me coldly
For once, let me grieve for justified reasons

Kinetosis

Wheels splash on wet road.
Windshield sheds streaks of tears.
Streetlights are golden blur from foggy windows.
Lively songs play just to match the speed.

A little deviation from stagnation.
A small reminder of still being in motion.

I am trying to ignore reminders...

Time is ticking away.
Second by second.
Moment by moment.

With red blinking LED countdown at road signals.

I am trying to ignore countdown...

I am wasting away.
Bit by bit.
Breath by breath.

I am trying to ignore destruction.

Tenant

My contract ends the day after tomorrow.
My careless House Owner hasn't realised yet, I think.

I stare at the walls of my apartment that I painted in my favourite color and at small jasmine plant I planted in balcony.

Would my House Owner scrape off pistachio green paint from the walls and replace it with his favourite grey when I am gone?
Maybe he would at least look after my jasmine, wouldn't he?

I tell you I do feel a little jealous about the next person who'd get to live here.
But I know, apartments are meant to be lived in.
So it's okay...

I will miss my favourite corner in my apartment from where little yellow sunshine entered and although I have cribbed about that least favourite place with faded paint all along, I will miss that too.

All my things lay scattered on the floor, waiting to be packed while I spend hours staring at pictures on the walls.. sniffing jasmine in the balcony... singing the same songs over again this apartment has gotten used to...

Less than two days remain; I haven't packed a thing and I haven't searched for any other apartment.

And honestly speaking, I keep wondering if my House Owner is going to ask me to stay.

Hope is a terrible thing.

Creatures of Lust

A little sunshine
from bedside window
whenever she visits;
through pistachio green curtains
that she pulls as she puts on my shirt

I stare at the arch of her back
and ringlets of hair around her neck 
I pull her back to the bed;
Tea can wait...

We lay like that for hours
Creatures of Lust
under blankets of indecision
Our legs entangled like our lives

She pulls her hair back in a ponytail
I stare at her lips that hold the clip
Her shiny shoulder showing through my loose shirt
I let her hair fall on my face;
My phonecall can wait...

Empty boxes of pizza
stacked near dustbin
Her scoldings for an hour or so
over my eating habits

When she is breathless with fury
I let her anger whisper an I-love-you to me;
Lust can wait...

Her phone on the table
An earring lost in my purple blanket
Her shirt lying on the floor
She picks up her things in the evening
I hold her a little more as she wears her shoes;
Time can wait...

Monsters

I always spot her, her long black hair billowing behind her as she walks with her head down. Her high cheekbones are hidden behind her mane. Always absent minded, like she does not belong wherever she is.

More often than not, people notice her throwing her hair back as if an irksome fly is stuck in its strands. Sometimes she rubs her neck as if to ward off some unknown frustration. When she meets my eyes, she gives a smile of recognition. Her smile reminds me of a woebegone old palace carrying scarce signs of its previous glory.

On rare moments when she creeps in the topics of gossip, there is nothing more to say about her than the fact that she is a crackpot. She stares at onlookers as if she knows she is being talked about and leaves without a word, shooing away that same mysterious bug around her hair.

I never tell people what I saw the other day. I never tell people that a small black shadow sits on her shoulder behind her hair. A bunch of butterflies are stuffed painfully in its fist. Whenever a former glory of her smile is about to return and her eyes shine a little like dawn breaking in the east, the shadow whispers something in her ears. Her smile falters, like sudden eclipse. I never tell people I heard her whispering to the shadow once,

'Go away, Guilt!!! Just go away. Let go of my happiness!'

Honestly speaking, I am not scared of the shadow she carries. I have monsters of my own.

Invisible Wall

Air is stiff, full of awkwardness at dinner table these days. I watch you ladling yourself a bowl of soup, hogging down rice wordlessly as if you couldn't wait more to get away.

I want to tell you to slow down a bit and look at my new earrings. I also want you to steal a piece of fried fish from my plate the way you used to do, to my utter annoyance and I want us to hold hands from under the table like we used to.

I open my mouth to say something, looking for some preamble that wouldn't irk you away. You don't notice my restlessness or my spoon playing with food as doubts play with my mind. I close my mouth without a word; for you suddenly seem very interested in a news item on TV.

I stare at my reflection at the back of my spoon, at my dark circles, bags under my eyes, undone eyebrows and frizzy hair. I decide to book an appointment with my beautician the next day.

I clear my throat.
Oh, I fear that look on your face, I feel as if I have disturbed you.
'Can we go out tomorrow?'

'Hmmm. Look how much it is raining today. We'll see.' You stifle a yawn.

I purse my lips.

'What happened?' You ask. You stop eating to look at me, with that familiar net of furrows on your forehead when you are irritated.

'Nothing.'

You shrug carelessly, shaking you head.

And The Queen of Words as the world calls me, I get absolutely speechless when you finally scowl and ask,

'What the hell is wrong with you?'

I cannot tell you how an invisible wall is building up between us, like a ghost that I can see and you cannot.

That- is 'what the hell is wrong' with me.

Eloper

Everybody fooled Care, for her own good.
All those days, Care was blindfolded by Mundanity, guarded by Pride who always told her the tales of the cruel world.

Past midnight, Bravery went weak in the knees, eyelashes of Self-Pity weighed down with sleep and no matter how desperately Pride shouted warnings from behind, Care was already at the door, wearing her stilettos and wine red lipstick she had borrowed from Lust.

Care walked away in the dark night and by morning she returned teary eyed, Disappointment at her heels.

'What's wrong?' Self-Pity asked sympathetically.

'He says he doesn't care. He loves only Lust.' Disappointment replies.

Parallel Universe

We would play a game someday.
Role Reversal game.
We would live in a parallel universe for a day.
You be me and I will be you.

For the day, fear of losing you wouldn't plague my mind.
And my dear, for a change, I would sit back and watch you eye me anxiously. (I would actually feel tiny strings of your heart breaking as you realise the time running out- I have known the feeling for quite long now, you see.)

For the day, my dear, for a change- you would fuss over my dark circles and habit of skipping meals and I would laugh it off. (I have been practising that careless smirk of yours before mirror. Just so you know.)

For the day, you would wonder till 5:00 am if you have stopped loving me as I forget to show up for our planned dinner and I would fall asleep, not even realising you waited for me for two hours.

For the day, for a change- I would take you for granted. You would call out my name and say 'I love you' in a whisper unsure whether I would say it back to you.

For the day, maybe you would ask me in the night,
'Darling, how was your day?'

And no matter how lousy my day would have been, I would smile and say,

'Wonderful, now that you are here.'

King of the World

Every morning, a little of sun is caught in your light eyelashes as morning rays sneak through our bedside window.
If I could just collect that shade of yellow in a palette to paint a picture, I would be the best painter in the world.

A naive sleepy smile spreads on your lips as you place your leg on mine and pull me closer to stop me from getting out of the bed.
If I could just fill an empty jar in the kitchen with that smile, I would own a secret ingredient to the best morning tea.

A fragrance around your collarbone when you are just out of shower beats the scent of Jasmine blossomed in balcony, every single day.
If I could just embottle that aroma, I would have invented the most exotic perfume in the world.

Your eyes spark silver with hope every night, as you lay your head on my chest.
If I could just fill a globe with that silver and hang it in the sky, I would have a star of my own. I would have my own New Moon Night if I could just extract the silky darkness of your hair.

You see, I can do anything- if you stay, the world would come at my feet.

Leap of Faith

Miss Forever carries a gloomy grey cloud hovering above her head wherever she goes.
At every possibility of happiness, the cloud bursts pouring usual set of questions:
Is it right?
Will it last?
What if it doesn't end well?

Miss Forever always carries her passport to a safe place with her.
'Just in case.'
When her feet shuffle in dilemma, her hands rummage to check if she still has got return tickets.

Miss Forever rarely plans jumping off the cliffs. Yet she checks her parachute every now and then.
'Contingency planning.'
She plans to land unscathed.

Miss Forever always has one eye on future whenever Mr As-of-Now kisses her.
Gloomy cloud bulges with questions.
Passport in her bag flutters its pages.
Valley of indecision is so deep and bleak, her feet shake too much for that leap of faith.

Mr As-of-Now means business.
He is always busy kissing Miss Forever.
With both eyes closed.