Friday, 18 November 2011

Those that can smile with a broken heart


I just realized I won't ever be able to write to you using my fountain would then know that the valley of flowers I have described in my letter has a river flowing through it and that river is full of salty water. You would see the mist clouding my happy sunshine falling through the window while I write to you in winter afternoons. In fact I think I would have to resort to writing mails to you again...typing doesn't capture the tremble in the fingers while writing a white lie.
I write the way people pray to alleviate pain. 
In prayers there is an unknown god...there still is a disbelief lurking that your prayers may not be heard...he might not answer you insignificant pleas for a relief...a narcotic, maybe.

The pen, doesn't heals as it fills up pages...words stuck in your brain tumble out and you start to breathe a little easier. 

And then I thank God that I can write. Ahh the irony of it!
And you question fate and you question faith.
---- bother, I'll just be fine.
I still have my pen with me. 
I'll write till it stops the end it always does.
Those that can smile with a broken heart are the ones who know how to plant white lilies in the fault lines that have formed
Loved and lost. Cycle is complete.
Are you happy now?
You left me stuck in a living hell.
Who is gonna bail me out?
And I practice for days on end, mentally stressing on the words, 
'I hate you' 
while knowing very well that when we meet, I'll simply look at those eyes then the only words able to stumble out will be
'Hate you, I?'
Falling in love...
:) :) :)
yet again...still it feels like first love...

I can't still believe how I hadn't heard this music before, how could I...I mean how could I.
I had a wallpaper of Kurt Cobain way back in 2004 but that was because he was incredibly handsome and there was something very very beautiful about the pic I had got from a colleague's desktop. 

I see him strumming and smiling and singing effortlessly, his eyes...oh his eyes...that pain that creeps up at times...and that smile...ahh...

O my my...I am in love with Kurt :)

Ahh...the tyrannies of love!
When someone is able to hurt you. Real bad. That is the time you would taste real fear. Because that is the time you know deep in your heart. That person has a great control over you. And you have none over yourself. 
Aquellos ojos verdes

The memory of that day has started to blur around the edges. There are some fuzzy characters, a little soundwave that echoes of the walls of memory. A peeled wallpaper here, a coffee machine token there. Air is still dense with cigarette smoke seen through burning, red eyes. The day passes in a jiffy and all that remains of that memory is relegated to black & white. THe only thing that remains lifelike in that portrait is a caption written in green ink at the bottom white portion of the photograph.
'His eyes are brown'.


Thursday, 17 November 2011

Tyrannies of love

Some people come in your life just to completely fuck you up from the break you down, toss you around, play with you with the innocence of a child, leave you utterly heartbroken and when you start falling apart you only begin to wonder why you still can't wrap your head around the fact that you love them. spite of and because of all question your belief in yourself and you ability to pull yourself together piece by piece. 

And one day you realize that you have actually gathered around all the pieces and stuck them together...and that's the same day you realize that you haven't put the pieces at the right places. Your heart is still frighteningly close to the memory of his eyes. 

You wonder when/if it ever gets over!

And finally...the pain sets in...the irrevocable sense of loss...the real reason you feared love in all its ferocity, it's destructive power raises its head. You writhe in agony, lose nights of sleep...and in the search of an anesthetic you dare to ask the person who put you through all this(mind you, you are still in love with him) if he has a cure.

And are labelled a MASOCHIST!

Friday, 4 November 2011


Don't breathe
Dead silence

A tear just
The fragments
unleash a tsunami

A limitless
my existence

Words become
gloss over
the real pain

Crude stitches
don't let me
fall apart
nor heal

Now. Wait.
I am not

And then
come back.