The Other Woman

There is a red handkerchief
She stuffs it in my mouth

When I call for help

I want to talk

I want to seek help

A stranger will be better

But it is always too late.

The damage is done.

She denies me 

Of all the happiness or relief

Until I stop feeling anything at all. 

And so the poetry remains incomplete..

The other woman 

Inside me.

Poem: Illegitimate

I like the illegitimacy
Of my thoughts for you
Like taking a jeep
On a secluded beach
When no one is watching.
It’s nice to think of you this way,
With no commitment, promises or explanations,
No Arguments, no confrontations.
I wonder if you’d smile with relief
Or cringe in grief
That your thoughts
They don’t hurt me anymore.
They come
They please me
And go away,
For I am already at peace
With the ending of this story
Our legit reality.

It’s Okay

It’s Okay
It takes ages to accept that… It’s Okay.
Guilty pleasures are okay. Pleasures without guilt too.
Remembering is okay. Forgetting too.
Hating is okay. Forgiving too.
Words are okay. Silence too.
Socialising is okay. Solitude too.
Writing is okay. Not being able to write too.
Seeking is okay. Finding too.
Tweeting is okay. Not tweeting too.
Loving is okay. Loveless too.
Letting go is okay. Clinging on too.
TV is okay. Book too.
What’s this race that you are trying to run in?
Walking is okay. Sleeping too.
Living is okay. Existing too.
Keep Breathing.

The Urge

Sometimes I want you more than other times
Most of the times it’s when I can’t have you
At the end of my hand
Within the reach of my arms
Around those several concealing walls
With those shimmering curtains
That witness what we behold within
And also the music that we create
The undiscovered tunes
That shall go with us on our deathbeds
And stories of our union
That shall never be told.

The Girl on the Rope

I feel like I am the girl on the rope
On the side of the road
Embracing dangers face to face
Just for some applaud
And some pennies perhaps.

 

They are looking at me
While I am walking on the rope
It is not enough to go just one way
And just towards the end of it
It starts to get boring.

 

And I must do something more
They are looking at me
Some excited to see me walk
Some would love to watch me fall
But I must not fall.

 

So I take out two small balls from the pocket
And juggle them while walking
O ya, that seems to have worked
It just works fine
And just when I turn to walk back where I started..

 

One ball falls from my hand
So I throw down the other
Just so that they know it was a part of the act
Then they throw a huge stick towards me
I catch it and walk holding it..

 

And then there are a few rings thrown on the stick
By now I am tired
And I may fall
There is no safety
No one standing by guard..

 

I can’t smile anymore
My face lets out a frown.
I see I am towards the end of the rope
And look it’s over
I come down.

 

But there are just few people waiting there
Some have left giving some pennies
The applauders stand there staring at me
They are happy but not so much
And I know they won’t pay.

 

They won’t pay
You know why?
Because I did not smile enough
That at one point
I frowned.

What If

What is with the urge
Of that one last meeting
Before you leave
Even it is for coming back
And what if you don’t?
But I know you would
And it’s not like
I’d come to drop you
To the airport or the train station
I am bad at saying goodbyes..
That will be unnecessary
Unless you are not coming back.
But you are
So what is with the urge
Of seeing you one last time
Getting a bear hug
And giving one
As if it is the last time
Even if it is not
And what if it is?
But I know you would.