young writer

He Loved Her ‘Til There Was a Flower Left

In the first week, the plant was bountiful with flowers

The time he loved her sweet

The promises that they would keep.

The trust, they both would reap.

In the second week, down came 

the unforeseeable rain

Their fights, all in vain, as they ended their days 

In each others’ arms 

Under the shadow of the candle’s flame. 

In the third week, there was an unforgivable storm

More than half of the flowers were gone. They saw less

Of each other. Pieces of him in her and her in him

They remained. 

In the fourth week, the clouds started to calm, but 

Grey they still were. Only one flower perfectly poised, remained.

The one he had saved for her. 

*** Young love that is short and simple, yet passionate burns fast, my friends. But the scars always remain.***

Flowers Drenched in Rainwater

Flowers drenched in rainwater 

O, how heavy you must feel!

Thoughts cascading down the edges of my shoulders

Overwhelmed, by the burden, I kneel. 

I bend to pick up the flowers 

My mind- not wanting to be kind

It only wants to pick up the pretty ones

And leave the withering ones behind. 

My heart warns myself, not to be fool’d 

“Look down at your own hands” it says

Graceful and delicate, now they are

But failing the tests of time one day

your own skin will slowly wrinkle away.

Falling For You: They asked me how I knew

People often ask me, how I knew that I was in love. Even though you never held my hand or caressed my neck nor whisper honeyed words into my ears.

I still knew.

I still knew that it was you.

I told them that it was the littlest things that would suffice. When you would walk into the room and you would smile at your friends and then look around to catch my eye and warmth would emanate through the dust particles between us, only to make everything more pure. The way the sound of your laugh was more than just a laugh and a sweet melody like Mozart to my ears. How your smile was my secret hiding place on days when I felt the weight of my own thoughts on my shoulders. How our little conversations were the music that put me to sleep and how they were the first remembrances in my mind at 7 AM when I woke. That’s when I contemplated as to why people phrase it “falling in love” because you were a manifestation that I rose to every single day. But that part comes later, because only if I knew. Only if I had payed enough attention to the red traffic signal instead of getting consumed in the joys of the green one. If only I would have shut the windows a bit tighter to prevent the rain from seeping through, onto my wooden floors, turning them a darker shade. If only I would have blown out the candle a bit earlier.

If only.

But those few moments with you were bountiful and full of life- endless exuberant sunlit days of a young girl, of a one-sided kind of love. The rush of adrenaline by just thinking of you. The unforced and natural smile on my face and the irregular thudding of my heart against my cage. If it wasn’t for all these, then would true love be? I used to think that maybe one day, I would wake up and see your face next to mine, how your caramel hair tousled callously around your temples. How I would know how you like your coffee on Sunday mornings and how we would bicker about the most foolish things, only to come apologizing on each other’s doors in the evening. Ever wondered if “maybes” just remain “maybes” or turn out to be “never”?

I was unsure as to what possibly went wrong. What shift had taken place in the cosmos, where was the faultline under my earth, that I had to reassemble myself from the doom of unrequited love. And that’s when I realized why they call it “falling in love”. It’s a sudden dive into the depths of the oceans where nothing but your feelings and affection matter. Everything else becomes unimportant and secondary. You lose grasp of your own belongings and your own-self whilst in search of the rare pearl.

And how foolish was I and still am to let those memories of you make my bones warm on a winter’s day.  

***

So how did you know?

Is it even worth it?

All the blood and the violence and
the tearing apart
What could have been a flower
Turned into brutal hearts

What could have been resolved
With words and understanding, but you chose
to show power by bleeding your own people
And then with more killing

At His mercy, we were given power
So we could bring people to life
But all those acts of gratitude
By people who only connive

All Your Faces

All your faces, mere illusions
Mask beneath masks, the farther I went
The more I speculated reality- the weight of it
Or mayhaps the burden
On my frail outlines, I tried to hold
Only to crumble down on me
The closer I became to you
More distant I felt and stranger
I grew
Every moment I spent
When our eyes met, smiles synced, secrets lent
Your proximity felt imaginary
It could be, I share too much and trust
Too much and you- adept in the art of camouflage
And fooling me
But
Oh, beware, as I observe and just as cunning
To reach your core, when you lay bare
With your truth, facing right back
At you.

Your Smile

And in those rare instances when we spoke, when I tried to maintain my equilibrium, my thoughts, when I tried to remain calm on the inside, it would all work. But then you would smile- mischievously and the corners of your eyes and your mouth would form soft crinkles, it would be like light radiating at the end of the tunnel. I would indulge myself in it, without knowing and I knew how that one action of yours was enough to capture a thousand hearts, even if you didn’t want to. It was infectious, almost like a disease, but a good one. I was unsure of how far our un-begun story would go, but when you smiled at me, it was like love knocking at the doors of my heart.  

Comfort of Solitude

Out in the balcony,

Her heart is in monopoly

And mind has no money.

 …

She lights one up shakily,

Takes a filling drag casually,

Ashes drop on her right knee, a casualty.

Others find her silence uncanny,

Some think, she’s in agony.

But only she knows the normality,

of being a little lonely.