Awake

Dear brain, it’s 3 am.
“Please shut up!” I yelled.
“But it’s Revenge time,”
You merrily said.
Rewinding my worst memories,
you didn’t let me sleep.
Blaming the insomia,
I cursed under my breath.

Still my thoughts wandered,
without any barrier.
I’m not awake ’cause I’m in love.
Or worse, heartbroken.

I just let my introvert play with me,
I wait for stars to shine in my room.
Just so that I can have a deep talk with moon.

When your life seems so tangible,
Moon is only understandable.
I’m not depressed. I just like
the sweet sadness engulfing me.

I cuddle with my pillow,
letting the tears flow.
It’s amazing to be sad for a while,
because then you’re hoping everything to be fine.

It’s 4 am, and I’m finally drifting off to sleep.
But just as I close my eyes to fall into a deep slumber,
you pop one more thought in my head.
I sigh, as I set up our date for 3 am the next day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Collaboration with Saloni (@saloniquietlybrilliant) again haha. Damn, ily.

 

 

 

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If you ever happen to glance at me,
and feel a beat of your heart missed,
and skipped repeatedly,
don’t expect it to be love.
And if you still argue to the contrary
look into my eyes and tell me
my insecurities are loud,
and my (in)confidence louder still.
Try to tell me that
you love the way I laugh, loud and erupting,
deep cracking, and, so…
what do they call it? Unladylike, yes.
Tell me you like the way I bun up my
messy hair, and smile at you from across the room.
Or maybe the way I text you at night to say goodnight,
just to know that you’re there.
Or that my blithe disregard to the canon doesn’t work you up.
accepting is so tough, and maybe I don’t
like the way I’m stared at when I double-up,
or when I sometimes don’t put enough thought in my clothes.
For love is kind, and forgiving, and accepting.
If I cannot, would not,
embrace myself, why would you endure?

Cry

When, and if I cry
and I open up to you,
let me.

When, and if I cry,
and I’m very drunk that night,
pull the bottle away from my hands,
and tell me you’ve got a better option.

When I cry,
hold me close,
and whisper words of comfort in my ears,
or I may slip away and leave.

When I cry,
Tell me fairytales,
and narrate them as if they were real.
They are fantastical,
But make me believe they aren’t,
and that magic truly exists.

When I cry,
and I tell you not to take me home,
take me someplace safe,
wrap me up in a blanket,
and then you may go.

When I cry,
Don’t stay, because
my drunk self appreciates you,
I won’t.

Over the Threshold

You had me cover my eyes as we crossed
the threshold to your home,
Oh, I always forget that it’s now ‘our’ home.
It never felt like mine, you know? It rather
felt as if I was on a display, there for every
one to see, and my vision snatched away
from me by a cloth around my eyes.
I never knew what it was to be impaired,
growing up despising control. I
couldn’t live like that, you know?
Bound by chains so strong they couldn’t
be visible to the naked eye. But, they were
there. Unseen,
but there. On display for everyone to see.
I struggled to get rid of them.
Those cuffs around my wrists were
suffocating, chafing skin and veins,
binding me to you even more.
Tried hard to make people realise how I was living in a cage.
I was a bird with my wings cut off;
The people around me were blind, and
maybe even dumb and deaf, because
none of them ever raised their voices for me, the noise of gossip was decibels much higher than my pleas.
My scars were visible, even the band aid couldn’t fix them.
Permanence was temporary, just like the
marks around my eyes and the scars
covering my wrists, beneath,
there was me,
freed.

●●●●●●

My very first collaboration with Saloni Mhapsekar.

Art by: Saloni Mhapsekar. (Check her out on Instagram, @saloniquietlybrilliant )

 

Pretty Girl

I don’t know how

I ran out of the gate, only

To stop in my tracks and turn back

When I heard you.

You talked to me.

You spoke to me.

I heard you.

I saw you speak.

Words flowing out of your mouth

Can’t be forgotten, even if I wanted to.

I don’t know how

I will ever forget you.

You said I was pretty

That’s why you ran after me.

My heart swelled up at that,

Nobody ever told me that.

Texting you, talking to you

I got to know you.

Yes, I gave you my number!

I don’t know how

Or why I did that.

One day you ask

Why did I do that?

I don’t know

The answer to that.

You say

I am merely a pretty girl to you

You don’t know how

It broke me

It shattered my little heart.

I don’t know how

I don’t know why

Romance isn’t my genre

Nobody ever told me that.