The Light Is Always On the Inside

Her brown eyes

were fireflies 

in disguise.

Only lighting up after dark.

I stayed up all night to memorise their flame.

I can still see the white light

behind my eyes 

whenever I close them

.

The light is always on the inside.

But when I wake up to this

never ending December world-

I am met with

 endless violets printed on rough yellow paper 

lining my smoke-filled, four walled room

that suddenly seems endless

to my lovelorn heart.

What good is rain on an iron heart?

You thought it  would wash away the dust.

You thought flowers would bloom here.

But everything turned to rust.

#Untitled

I tried saving myself from his eyes but alas!
my heart became entangled in his brown-grey curls.
Oh Love, till when will you play with me?
I am standing before you, helpless.
I admit Defeat.

I press my palms to my ears
but still the accusations pour in.
Oh what have the people done?
Our love story remained fulfilled
only in the rumours of these gossip-mongers.

Unknown to others,
I spend my nights watering my pillow
with the memory of your tears.
Maybe I was wrong
when I turned you away.

Countless lovers fall for my smile
but none want to see the
scars in my eyes.
A wound is only recognised if it bleeds.
People peel off my scabs with their harsh words.

I laugh and turn away from the world.
On nights like these, I laugh at them
and myself and you.
If direct words could soothe heartbreak,
'Ghazals' would become obsolete.

Under the full moon, the night street is filled with cries,
Is it a poet or a lover or a madman?
A voice whispers back,
'What is the difference?'

Black Noise on the Street

 Lets lacerate blue
 butterfly wings
and  cloudy clumsy dandelion things,
pulling that fingernail off
and letting it bleed.

The sound of defeat
Black noise on the street.

 Somebody broke in too deep
 and now you can't fall asleep no more.

You should have held your peace
when the priest said,
 'If anybody has any objections,speak now...'

How long,
 how long does it last this way?
How many times,
how many times, will he never stay?

Broken hearts have paper locks on them,
to secure wayward pieces together.

Black noise on the street
The sound of defeat.

When you grieve
for a nobody,
the shadow in your eyes
are always a little darker.

Everybody gets them roses.
But yours died on the way here
You don't deserve them, anyway.

How long,
 how long does it last this way?
How many times,
how many times, will he never stay?

The sound of defeat
Black noise on the street...



And this song is on loop.
Go Figure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIkXPs4SbYo

Taste your salted ego.

You have been asleep so long, my love.

Slumbering restlessly in silence.

Letting the dust of everyday existence 

collect in the hollow of your bones,

nestle in the spaces between your rib cage,

dull the waters in your eyes.

It is time to arise and shake it off now.

To feel the throb of  a firefly's heartbeat 

beneath your eyelids.

It is time to accept your hurts and your disappointments

and wear them like you wear your tattoos- with elan and pride.

It is time to taste your salted ego.

To fix the broken blue clock that remained stuck at the thankless minute.

To burn your effigies of Miss Havisham and Meera.

To taste the freedom in the tendrils of smoke you blow off your celibate cigarette.

It is time.

'There is a storm coming.'

Seasons in her eyes

All I wanted was for her to not be empty anymore,
So I fed her with an orange sunset of dying love.
But it was not enough.
Helplessly, I watched as the seasons changed in her eyes and Monsoon burst in full swing.
I could do nothing but float tiny, blue paperboats of 'Maybes' doomed to drown in her black rain.