Winter says,

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My fingers feel flowers;

Rusted swing chains;

Standard, pale, blue poles;

The touch of people who stay,

But they return to emptiness.

I walk along city streets

And broken pavements which

Water conversations for two

But the darkness is haunting.

The moon asks me for you.

I remember those rough hands;

Lines that gave you the freedom to fly.

I remember travelling over them,

Seeing my world within their grasp-

With dreams to hold and a future

Too beautiful to be mundane at all.

“Where are you, darling?” again,

The winds whistle to me.

I look at the stars, the deep blue sky

Ceilings seem too far-I don’t know why

My hands are clueless, catching misery.
Lines blurry, confused, craving, today.

“But wait for the interval!” I fervently say.

The lens will show me scaling, anon!

Threads will hold each other tight and

Rush to make rough, familial vines,

You watch! I’ll sail over winds and oceans.

I’ll chase the sun! I’ll befriend the trees.

The moment winter enters my skin,

Telling me, “Open your eyes and

Just see yourself awake, for once.”

~~~

Inspired by the movie La La Land! 🙂

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No more death, please


Little deaths follow my shadows.

Corpses of high hopes,

Funerals of pleasure,

Stinking murders of us.

But take a knife

Tell me to kill again.

The flavours of death don’t confuse me

Babe,

I simply crave for the cooking

I remember when times were fresh

Memories were brewing

Our special places were savoured.

Now all I see is a microwave.

It stares me in the face,

Like those horror movies

And I’m screaming inside

The pleasure is too vivid,

The moment too real.

I’m not ready to feel it again

History is frozen in the present.

And I’m not ready for warmth, today

Rewind, rewind, rewind

Play, but just don’t.

Let’s move to the future please,

Stale is not worth us

I want to breathe again.

Fresh air, Mumbai.

I want home again.

Give me home again.

 

Gray bench and red balloon

December 14:

 

I sat there with her-the gray stone beneath us,

And suddenly it felt like the stone had inflicted its sadness on us.

It wasn’t like I didn’t try, though.

I tried, tried hard to maintain the connection.

But those brief pauses were like thorns.

Sharp, hurtful and damaging.

I could sense that the rose was wilting.

I was wilting.

And she didn’t believe in the rose.

I just wanted to see her smile, see her play around with those strands of hair-I wanted to see her happy.

But I was a new person to her now, wasn’t I?

Couldn’t make her laugh, couldn’t make her converse. I just failed at this entire thing.

It was bad enough that my feelings had pulled down our friendship but had they killed it? Had they killed what was the most intimate friendship I had ever felt?

That killed me.

She flew away like a red balloon, soon.

And now I am left gray,

Clinging on to that bench,

Clinging onto those memories,

That last encounter, that made my heart weep,

Until a balloon comes and takes me away too

To the heaven of my princess.

~~~

This projects a situation my friend went through. I tried to capture it and put it in words, the way I had imagined it. (of course, this is only my interpretation of his situation)