the rear new mirror

Never and always.
Shared forgetting, infectious thoughts and planting doubts..." 

memory is a fragile friend. vivid and unforgiving at times, but also fleetingly fake. you remember what you'd like to not forget. some stories jump up at you, unassuming and seemingly simple, yet gut-wrenching and physically painful. a colour, a phrase, a song, an email, a question. the stories have leaked into your blood and have altered your very being. you are no longer the same person. and you struggle to understand yourself, and soon, you are someone else, reliving the old memories as an outsider. and while you were fighting the old demons, new ones made themselves at home. not all monsters, though. some very angelic beings, like comforting panda bears, making you smile in spite of yourself. you even begin to ask yourself if the happiness you now feel is the same that you remember. or is it the happiness that you try and forget?

when i think of you, i feel a soul-stirring, tingle-in-the-spine, confusing little spark of wonder. it's not a familiar feeling, in fact it's strange and mystical and unknown. like questions without answers, a night without morning, like thunder without rain, an illness without a cure, or a kiss that seems like the beginning and the end. when i think of you, i start thinking of all the stories that we've written together, in invisible ink. i tell myself that like memory, even the marks on my body fade away. and i stand in front of the mirror and search every inch of me, for you. i twist and turn and even turn the lights off, so i could maybe find you in the darkness. 

i've done everything to remember you. i've done more than everything to forget you. i have no memories of you. i have made you a part of my soul. i did not dream of you before. i will never sleep in peace again. i want nothing but you. and i will have everything, but you. 

words leading nowhere

i felt a slight tingle in my soul today,
like he laughed loudly for no reason,
and i felt the tremor after a long while.
yes, my soul is a man.
isn't yours?
he is the one who keeps me from writing on the walls,
or makes me send out messages into the universe,
knowing fully well that the stars won't reply.
he is also the one who taught me
how to smile, say goodbye and wait
till you leave to start crying.
he is the one who shows me the truth of the world,
like truth and love and beauty,
and rain and early mornings and weed,
and photos of big, fake smiles.
yes, my soul is a man,
who loves me
even though i don't love him back.

Mother Mary

"It's only a coincidence if it happens once". 

Everyday I read some poetry. A few lines, a well-balanced phrase, a quote or sometimes, a whole three-scrolls worth of exquisite words making love. Some poems make me smile, some I forget quickly, and some I take into my soul, where it gives birth to many more. And they ask me, why I don't want to have children. 

On the contrary. My heart has given birth to a world of words, each of whom I cherish dearly. My poems are my children. They have been given to me by my lovers, my one-night stands, my husbands and my ex-lovers. Some have even been given to me by strangers. I know it sounds crass, but when someone is pouring their self into your eyes, you don't stop to ask silly questions. Some poems I look upon with disdain, like a tired mother would look at a neighbour's child in the playground. They seem fine, and yet they don't please you. Some poems make me burn with jealousy and envy. How can that kid be so perfect? 

And with all that joy and happiness in me, and around me, I never thought a day would come when I would wish for more.  I didn't even believe that something more existed. Until I met you. I thought I had exhausted all my words, swirling around in the ink pot, like children often do in pools, refusing to clamber out and dry themselves. I believed I was done, and was determined to be careful about the next one. Until I met you. 

You make me want to write. You make me want to open my heart, close my eyes and let the words flow through me, without consequence. You make me want to gleefully practise the art of making children, after all those years of having to be careful. And oh, the pleasure of abandon is immeasurable. Because of you, I've written on walls, in notebooks, on mobile phones, on installation art pieces, in songs, in the sands of the ocean, in the rain, in the darkest nights and the most joyous mornings. I've even written when I'm driving, knowing fully well the dangers that lurk around the next turn of page, and yet enjoying the thrill of you in me. I've written in meetings, in text messages, at marriage halls and malls. I've even done it on flights, in cars, in crowded pubs, in quiet temples, in misty New York City, in drunken states of misbehaviour. Because of you, I don't ever want to stop writing. I want to have countless children roam the world, all born from the gift of your love. They will be our legacy, our children, the greatest love story never told. 

Because of you, the world will remember me. 

 

Bambi

I'm overwhelmed by memories of you tonight. They say that thoughts of you comes in waves and tonight I'm drowning. Truth is I'm not even putting up a fight. I'm letting myself drown in thoughts of you and me and us. And all because I bought cushion covers today. I was trying to decide on the colours when a soul-crushing memory presented itself to me. As if it were also on offer. I'm thinking of our house and what would have been our home. Had I not been consumed with doubt and despair. I knew that something was wrong with me when I was upset that you wouldn't walk slower even though I couldn't keep up wearing heels. I wish I was then the person I am now. I would have forgiven you forgetting me outside the cinema hall. I would not have cared that you walked right past me without even looking at me. It wouldn't matter that I went to bed alone every night because the Lich King demands your attention. I wish I knew then what I know now. That all the million times you kissed my forehead and ran your fingers through my hair mattered more than you punching through the new table, or telling me that you will never let me set foot in that house again. I wish I had known how to explain what you meant to me without equating it to cooking and cleaning and endless trips to the supermarket. 

I'm making a lot of wishes tonight, hoping that someone will listen. It doesn't really matter if they come true. I'm not asking for you back, I just want to talk to you once more. Because tonight I really need a friend. And you were a good friend to me. I'm lost and I know you won't show me the way but you would have listened to me. Tonight, I just want to see you once more, and have you kiss my forehead without realising it and absently run your fingers in my hair, and say "I know" when I say I love you. Through all these years and with everything I wish for, the only thing that hasn't changed is that I loved you then. As I love you now. And that will never change, no matter how much you wish for it. 

the most honest poem I ever wrote

12:35

past midnight, my knees were weak

from your fervent, forbidden kiss. 

I drove fast, through childhood lanes.

the same lanes I took,

to go to 7am French classes, 

the result of which,

is a heart that refuses to break.

I drove furiously, 

spurned on by an evening of a meeting of souls, 

with chosen music and yearning looks,

I know,

you have an early morning,

and I have an endless night.

I swear I almost crashed the car, 

yes, on purpose,

hoping that it would wake me up 

from this horrible, unfair, impossible dream. 

a dream where I laugh with you,

where I kiss you without wondering when the next kiss is going to come. 

I can still taste you, 

through the tears that refused to flow,

even though i really tried,

as if the tears would comfort me.

I drove at 60 kilometres an hour, 

trying to run away from you, 

afraid that you would actually grant me 

that one minute more. 

my hand is still warm. 

my soul is still smiling. 

my lips are still happy. 

I swear, when you kiss me, 

you leave me wanting,

for 

nothing. 

Are we going to pretend to be friends now?

i'm tired of being clobbered.
i'm building my wall with diamonds this time, 

so it may never break again.

you saw me smile when you said goodbye. 

when i closed that door, 

i washed off my make-up 

and my tears as well. 

When the sun rises tomorrow, 

You will have no reason to love me,
because I will not be the same.

i know

i will get over the pain of not having you.
but i will never get over you. 

Romance for the atheists

You've watched me burn, now see me rise

All of this anger and hate, frustration in disguise.

This is not who we really are,

But I'm over you before you even get in your car. 

Stare into the sunset, sweetie, when you ride, 

I won't be by your side. 

You'll have your music and your wine, 

And underwear on the backseat that ain't mine. 

It's not surprising to see how this went down, 

We were too good to last,
it's true what they say about wearing an invisible crown; 

Keep your head high so it doesn't fall 

Baby, how did you manage to make me feel so small?

I was never a princess, I was the queen.

And now I feel like an empty chessboard, no moves left,
I've peeked through the smokescreen. 

I can't promise we'll be friends, 

I don't mean it and you don't make amends 

I will tell you that it was a beautiful thing, 

It was like 365 days of pure Spring. 

And now all we have left is broken doors
and a leftover wedding ring. 

Erase, go back in time, restart 

What a sad end to what could've been a work of art. 

Anyway, it's time for you to leave,

Turn around, forgive, forget and you better believe 

there will come a time when we will miss each other.

But you can leave now, because I need to call my mother. 

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Nothing,

and I mean absolutely nothing 

can reduce you 

to

heart-wrenching,

soul-crushing,

unable-to-drive,

breathless, desperate 

tears,

as knowing, 

that the one you love 

doesn't love you back. 

Wishing that

the tears will, 

somehow,

make it happen, 

you give it your best shot. 

Well. 

Tomorrow 

is another day. 

and 

it might be a beautiful one. 

hit the road, jack...and john, david, joseph and steve.

he's a handsome fellow, you should see him.
he has beautiful eyes and a happy face.
he sometimes comes when called,
though he is known to unreasonably sulk.
he waits anxiously for me to come home,
and sometimes, he isn't even there when i return.
he remains stubbornly by my side.
but then again, he accepts gifts from the neighbour nearby.
he comforts me when i'm sad, and holds my hand when i cry
and sometimes, he just disappears, without a sound.
i know i don't have to go looking for him,
because you cannot command his presence.

you can only wish for it.
and then dream that your wish comes true.
and before that, you must hope that you dream
that your wish comes true.

no, he's not the dog that you think he is.

though he is known to be faithful
to every single one of his goddesses.

2.Oh..

our messages are all encrypted.
code words, and password protected.
a shy smile sent into the internet,
innocent looking, but with other meaning.
it's all hidden, deleted but not forgotten
the kind of memory that even you start to doubt.
there is no trace of us anywhere,
no clues to track, and no body to find.
there is nothing but a lingering feeling
of something amazing,
i don't know what to call it,
maybe you could give it meaning?
burning desire, compressed into
an email attachment.
i bet you didn't know
that love could be so small.
the ache of longing and belonging
turned into a ridiculously inadequate
heart-shaped ping.

when they come looking for us,
we will be gone, and there will be nothing to find.

but.
hidden and deleted,
buried and invisible,
fake hugs and forced pretence.
and still,
the only thing that makes perfect sense.

write and wrong

it's been three days of no rain.

no messages from the sky, just a lot of wind knocking against doors, windows, spilling flowers in vases.

where are you? i only shut my eyes for two seconds and found you gone. i looked everywhere but there were no clues to find you. i've worried and cried and wondered, and finally ended up buying more flowers, as if that were the only cure to anger.

i will make any promise that you would want me to keep, if you'll come back.

no, i've understood now. i'll write you a thousand lines of poetry. i know that will bring you back.
and i'm starting right now.  here goes the cold water...

i woke up when i felt your breath in my ear.
my eyes refused to open, fearing a broken dream.
i felt your hands roam around my body,
as if it were but the first time.
i turn around as you brush my hair
away from my neck, to welcome your lips.
i smile, and i swear it was not a plan.
the sun was peeking through the shadows,
excited to watch you kiss my hips,
my knees, my shoulders, my breasts.
he was unable to contain his joy
and rose to shine in all his glory
just as i feel you inside me.
my eyes remained closed, i promise
from the moment you breathed down on me,
till you lit the fire inside me.
and now, every time i close my eyes
i can feel you in the depths of me. 

We

loving you

is

like a blind man

feeling the words

do not touch. 

bad ideas

there is a girl who is following me around everywhere. she looks a lot like me, but she isn't me. she wasn't always there, but it's been a while since i've noticed her. she seems to be like an alternate version of me, veering either towards an evil twin or a better version of me.

i have been slowly trying to shake her off, but the more i notice her, the more invisible she becomes. she isn't me, but seems to enjoy doing things that i like to do, and saying things that i would say. i've noticed she also sometimes says things that i don't say. like, the other day, she called someone a motherfucker. that's not a very nice thing to say, is it? she also blatantly told someone that she wants to kiss him. now who says something like that?

somedays, she starts crying uncontrollably. sobbing through entire playlists and i cannot understand why. one night, i even saw her with a razor blade in her hand, just staring at it like a psychopath. the very next day, i remember observing her with a child, laughing and playing and baby-talking to the kid, as if there is just no connection between one day and the next.

she seems to like drinking and smoking and driving around late at night. she seems to think it's ok to be fat and uncaring because apparently, there isn't a single reason to be otherwise. she seems to live in a fantasy world, forging needle-thin, superficial relationships with everyone around her, that wouldn't withstand even a strong breeze, forget storms. she seems to believe it's okay to lie. and thinks it is okay to not answer messages like "where are you?", and "have you reached home". i'm beginning to think she mocks me and imitates me sometimes.

she can't seem to make a decision, and never really follows through with the ones she makes. she cannot seem to choose between now and then and later, and lives in a void of uncountable days of heartbreak. yes, i know what heartbreak looks like on a person.

somedays, she cannot even recall what she did the day before. one day, i saw her wearing my jewellery. i'm sure it was mine because i wouldn't dare wear the ring he gave me just before he broke my heart.

i cannot talk to her, so i never got a chance to ask. she seems to also have taken certain liberties with the way she works and talks and walks, as if she owns the world and anyone who thinks otherwise can basically go take a fuck.

late evenings, i've seen her vulnerable and sad. it looks like she has no one to have a cup of tea with. of course, i cannot offer to spend time with her because she scares me. she seems so much like me but everything about her is completely opposed to who i am. she looks and talks and eats and laughs like me; she even dances like me. but...she can't really be me....right?

renewal of nows

i still remember the night when i had the revelation. i was suddenly aware that it hurt to be apart from you. i had started to look forward to our meetings more than ever, i had started dressing for you, making sure i kept a marie-kondo'ed house, washed my hair more often, and had started reading all sorts of things to make sure we had something to laugh about. and, oh your laughter! i realised how it warmed me up inside to see you laugh. i had started thinking about you all the time, and was making up fantasies about our life together. i used to smile at the marks you left on my body, priding myself on the passionate moments we spent together, that had me begging for more. i remember getting your name inked into my soul, so i could always carry you around. i had learnt the recipes to your favourite dishes so that i may make them for you some day. i had created a playlist of all your favourite songs, and i even learnt the words to some of them. i had started to think fondly of rainy days and sunset and drinks on the beach. i had even started writing poems about you...

i was not in love. i was in denial. 

anyway, that was then. and this is now.