The words of Gibran and Rumi
Ringing in my ears
A lush forest of desires
Aflame inside of me
A long suffering silence
Hiding beneath my eyelids
A yearning to be touched
As deep as humanly possible
A constant fight
Against the ever flickering light
Of slowly dying passions
And needs that die everyday
A poets life
A poets struggle
A poets pain
All for that one moment
Of being remembered
Can I touch your face?
Trace the contours of that familiar sight
With trembling fingers
Like I've always longed to do?
Can I hold you close
Inhale the scent of you
Deep inside me
So it gets imprinted
As a memory
In every sinew of my being?
Can I taste your lips
And put to rest
Hours and hours of wondering
Can I look at you
The way I've always wanted to
Can I touch your body
The way I've wanted you
To touch mine
Millions of times
With wonder, joy and
A whole lot of gratitude
That someone like you exists?
Can I hear your thoughts
Without you for once
Expressing them to me
Simply by listening
To the tenor
You're too good to be true
That's what I kept repeating to myself ever since you showed up in my life.
Over and over I repeated it in my head like a mantra.
You always knew the right thing to say
It didn't matter.
You always knew the right thing to do
It didn't matter.
You were always there to handle me at my worst and be with me at my best
It didn't matter.
You're too good to be true.
I became fixated on that. Days and nights of obsessing over every tiny detail of everything that happened between us, looking for flaws.
You're too good to be true. I believed it with all my heart and soul.
Until it became a self fulfilling prophecy.
And that's the story of how I lost y...
*F R I E N D Z O N E D*
Here's what you don't understand.
You my dear are sexy as fuck and it's incredibly distracting because every minute I spend talking to you is torture. I have to act normal. As if whatever you say and do doesn't affect me but it does. Of course it does! Only, you are too blind to see it.
There are moments you get so caught up in what you are saying that I can't help but get caught up in you. There are times you get so passionate about what you're saying that I'd like you to never shut up.
If you were mine I would kiss you every chance I had. That's not even an exaggeration. I would grab you randomly at any moment of the day, slam my body onto yours...
He's a thought
That can lie inside you
Then one day
And just like that
You are back
In that place
As if he never left
And you wonder
What kind of sorcery
To twist time
Into a thread
And wrap it around his finger
So all he has to do
Is pull at it
Every once in a while
To find his way to you
Ever since I discovered lettrs, my friends and family have been constantly perplexed by my obsession with it.
But what they don't understand and what I can never explain is, lettrs is my utopia.
It's what I have always wanted my world to be.
People bare their souls here. Without inhibitions. And I think we can all agree that it's immensely liberating.
This community has proved me right about my most firmly held belief - that once we strip ourselves of all the masks and the pretence that's more reflex than reality, we are all strikingly similar.
Which is why I have come here every time I wanted to safely fall apart, get some perspective on my troubles, share another...
To anyone who thinks they are going through shit right now
Let it out. All of it. Don't even leave out the abuses and the expletives. Really let go.
Scream bloody murder
Write till your fingers can't take it anymore. Unburden it all out on paper.
Once you do that, close your eyes.
Take a deep breath.
Now imagine, it is them writing that letter to you. Them saying all those things to you. Them letting you know that's how they feel about you.
I'm not saying it will solve all your problems. But it will give you some much needed perspective. It might even save you from making a huge mistake.
You see sometimes we assume a lot. Without realising. We have thi...
Pain and pleasure
Go hand in hand
In this world
Where she understands
The look in his eyes
And he hears
The unexpressed longing
In her voice
It's a world
Of delicate nuances
And dark depraved depths
A world where
A sharp indrawn breath
Speaks more eloquently
Than a million words
Need desire hunger
All battle inside her head
The only succour
Her soul craves
She sleeps every night
In the circle of his protection
Around her skin
His next command
Today, he split me open.
Tore down all my defenses.
Buried me in a deluge of words, I know I will never recover from.
Fifteen times his soul called out to me.
Fifteen times I watched as every word unraveled the threads of my being.
Until I came apart.
And now there is no me.
I bleed for you
To the brink of madness
On the edge of insanity
In the throes of a need
And nothing else
There were times
When she said
A lot of things
Only to have them
Treated like nothing
Her innermost desires
Her dirty secrets
So with time
She learnt to hide
Everything she thought
Behind a simple
When did it happen?
Where did it start?
When did you start looking away every time you passed a mirror?
When did you start looking around sheepishly, almost apologetically, for laughing too hard?
When did you start making excuses for the way you are? As if being you is a flaw?
Who taught you to be ashamed? Of your body? Of your thoughts? Of your soul? Of your passions?
Why did you believe them?
Love you say? Did you love them? I'm sure you did. So answer me this - would you do to them what they did to you? In the name of love?
Would you shame them? Try to change them? Try to turn them into a caricature because it suited you?
What's the matter? Did I shock ...
Don't love me yet.
Not until I keep asking you why.
Not until I keep second guessing, and looking over my shoulder, and waiting for things to fall apart.
Don't love me yet.
I'm still hiding. Licking wounds that haven't healed completely. Give me some time.
Because these wounds you see are not anyone else's fault. They're self inflicted.
Don't come close to me. Now is not the time.
I still need to learn to love myself. Especially the parts that seem ugly and nasty. There's a lot I keep burying deep inside me in a dark forgotten corner, thinking that if I don't see it, it won't bother me.
Except it does. All the time. Like the constant ticking of a time bomb abou...
To be wanted
Like I needed to be
To be needed
Like I wanted to be
No longer a dream
No longer a dream
'Money is very important'.
You always used to say that. I agreed with you. Mostly. I saw how hard you worked. How much you sacrificed. Of course it was important.
But so were so many other things. Growing up, maybe I didn't have too many 'things', but I had you. That was the only thing important to me.
You were my money.
You see you forgot one very important thing. I'm not you, just like you are not me.
You should have trusted me. Like I trusted you. Without question. Without doubt.
Now, when I need you the most, you are not there. I know you want to be. But your fears hold you back. I understand. But it doesn't change the fact that you have left me alone in this fight. When you k...
Who would have thought
That one day
Would be the hardest thing
I would ever have to do?
We aren't even close to being perfect.
We make blunders, some relatively small, some impossibly huge, and still manage to live through them.
We all have had stormy nights. Yours lasted too long. I feel lacerated again. The hurt pains. The ghosts have resurfaced. I know you understand and thats why I write to you tonight.
I respect your spirit and the woman I see in you. You stand still and be the rock for Yug. Beneath, a heart has shattered and tried to merge into a whole, a number of times.
Just wanted to say, you are an inspiration Sun. Beautiful, Bold, and an amazing woman.
Loads of love,
P.s - a letter I wrote but didn't send you. :)
The sound of a door closing has never been a pleasant one for me.
It meant goodbye. It meant distance. It meant pain. It meant helplessness. It meant separation.
I've lost count of the number of days I have waited until I got behind a closed door and away from prying eyes just so I could silently fall apart.
Stifling my screams, my anguish, the wails of my broken beliefs, the earth shattering sound of my innocence being shattered.
I suffered it all, and not one sound escaped my lips.
The sound of a door closing was never a pleasant sound for me.
Once there was a girl.
And there really was nothing special or exceptional about her, except one thing.
She was hands down the most stubborn human being in the world.
Once an idea got into her head, she held on to it with both hands and never ever let go. No matter how ridiculous it seemed or how impossible the odds were, never once did she waver in her staunch convictions.
Day and night she fought - against the naysayers, the voices in her head, the pundits, the know it alls, even her own blood. For she could see something they couldn't as clearly as if it was real.
And then, one day, destiny decided she had suffered enough, and granted her her one true wish.
Not everyone is so l...
What We Could Have Been
We're the love story
That could have put
The heavens to shame
If you had smiled at me
Instead of glaring
At my faults
If I had built you up
And not sniggered
At your faults
If you had raised your love
And not your voice at me
If I had learnt to just
Let all those bygones be
If you had given me smiles
For every tear I cried
If I had held your hand
Like I meant it every time
If you had seen the love
I always had for you
If I had used my actions
To back up my words to you
If you had learnt to put
Your anger out the door
If I had picked you up
When your knees hit the floor
We are the hopeless blinds
That simply refused to see
We are the love story
Physically, you are as far away from me as possible.
But my soul can feel your soul as close to me as my own breath.
I know you are trying to get away from me.
Conspiring with the powers that be and creating circumstances so I can't be in the same space as you physically.
My will is strong enough to defeat the darkness and pull you away from its embrace. You know that.
I know you know that.
That is why you are keeping me away.
I know you want me to let go.
I know I probably should.
But I can't help being selfish. For one more day. For one more night.
I need you for me. As selfish as that sounds. My house is not a home without you.
Don't say goodbye.
There's this love - the kind that I've always dreamed about but have never been able to put into words.
Let me see if I can do justice to the idea in my head today.
I'm a poet. Words are all I know. So let me use that.
Suppose there's a pen, a paper and some ink.
Now when you use the ink inside the pen to write a word on paper, it is very difficult to say where the ink ends and the word begins.
In a way, when you look at that page, what you are looking at is the words, but what you are really seeing is actually the ink.
Now if I were to say - hypothetically - that the blank page is life, the act of writing is love, I am the alphabet and he is the ink - would you be able to underst...
I am proud of myself.
Despite my flaws.
I don't mean it in the way that compares me to another.
Not at all.
I mean it in the truest sense of the word.
I by myself am one of the strongest people I know.
My flaws and imperfections might be the most annoying ones in the world, but they are mine and I wear them with pride.
But that's not why I'm writing this.
I knew that I was meant to be proud of who I am since the day I was born. It was as ingrained and as instinctive as breathing.
But somewhere along the way, I forgot.
When someone said something bad about me, how eagerly and how easily I believed them. What an absolutely foolish thing to do!
The point I'm trying to make is this...
I want to capture the moon
And turn it into
My bedside lamp
I know that science says
But a poet's heart
Has no place for logic
So I dream
Of placing that cold faraway moon
On my windowsill
Tracing it's imperfections
Until I know them
Like my own
And in that dream
We talk all night
The moon and I
Of faraway lands
And lonely skies
Of vacant bedrooms
And silvery sighs
And when morning comes
I smile In silence
That the moon and I
Are not alone
The most beautiful lesson life always taught her was how to straddle the delicate almost invisible line between pleasure and pain.
And I swear she did it with such elan that it took your breath away.
She knows loneliness in a way she hopes no one ever does.
She lives in a world that is not her world.
Among people who are not her people.
On a bed that doesn't feel like her bed.
Wrapped in sheets that chaff her skin.
For a man who has forsaken her long ago.
And yet, she lives.
And yet, she smiles.
Some days she even dares to laugh.
And as determined as loneliness is to defeat her, there is none as determined as her to be an unforgettable adversary.
Years from now, when they mention her name, she hopes they will think of her as the girl who looked loneliness right in the eye, and didn't cower once.
That would be her legacy to the world.
Feel free to use the space below this letter to speak your mind about whatever it is that is preoccupying your thoughts.
Then watch me turn it into a poem.
I am an artist.
It is not my job to make you like me.
In fact, it's better for me if you don't. That means I'm doing it right.
A lot of us get the calling to be an artist. No scratch that. Every single one of us has the potential to be an artist. Each one of us hears the call to be one. But only a few of us answer that call.
To some of us, art comes as music. To some as dance, to some as words and to some others as ideas.
Ballerinas and beat boxers, sculptors and songstresses, actors and artists, poets and performers - we are all expressing the same urges. Only our languages differ.
But I digress.....
I am a writer and a poet. It is my job and my calling to be a hell raiser, a ra...
It was never my favorite word
But who would have known
That one day
This four letter word
Would become my home?
Who knew that it would spell comfort and familiarity to me?
For that's the thing no one tells you about pain. It is the most intense of all the feelings. And once you've had a taste of it, you become like a junkie looking for your next big fix.
One more thing no one ever tells you is this - pain forms it's own tribe. It's tattooed on the souls of those who have weathered the same storms as you. These people - not only do they know each other well, they actively seek each other out. And like a wolf howling at the moon, once you sense their presence in t...