আমি মধ্যরাত্রির নক্ষত্ররাজি,
সূর্যের আড়ালে রং মেখে সাজি।

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With nadir underneath my feet,
the only haven remains now is Zenith.— % &

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Healing your own wounds is threnodic in itself.

They bleed to death for some love from somebody else but the only thing you can provide them with is

all of you.

Only you.

May be that is enough.

That has to be enough.— % &

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চলবে সবাই তোমার মতে
তোমারই মতো করে?
বুঝবে তোমায়, রাখবে মনে,
ডাকবে করুন সুরে?
মিত্রতা-কে বশ্যতা নামক
রদ্দি কাগজে মুড়ে,
দেখবে একাই দাঁড়িয়ে আছ
সবার থেকে দূরে।

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A Note to our naive hearts -

Put your clothes back on.
Wrap a jacket around your wreck.
Why do you always denude us,
hand out directions on how to make us break?

No one wants your wail,
the way you plead and bleed.
Please grow some thicker skin.
Fending is never a sin.

Look at us with the same hope,
help our mind take the lead.
Appear legible to beguile
but never let them read.

Because no one wants your wail
the way you bleed and plead.

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-Communion-

In a parallel universe,
I see your face carved into the long night moon.
I pray to the stars that look like broken christmas lights, hanging by threads at the park street winter sky.

With you by my side, I walk down the stretches of familiar roads that lead to the otherworld; our dream home.

Now we sense there is no more path to tread as we stand between reality and void.
We cut ties with every single string that makes us paranoid.

Entwined, I snitch those few moments that feel like your sultry breath.

I see the sky crashing,
I see you smile in glee,
I see the thunder grumbling,
(eyes closed...)
I see you inside of me.

-

if it's true
that
love is indeed life's
poetic interlude.

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Have you ever stayed up so late that you began to think about your old self, wondering if the five year old you would look up to you? In bed, you lie down, searching for the colder side of the pillow and it keeps you up even longer. All of a sudden you find your memories emerge at the ceiling. Your present self grows envious of how all you worried about was the next cartoon show that would come on the television.
Life hadn't settled in yet, and disappearance was something you hadn't grown accustomed to. Maybe your heart was filled with so much love that you couldn't squeeze any ounce of resentment against the earth you walked with pride, yet.

Then as these pleasurable memories fade to black, the singularity of the world settles in. The hurt, the pain, the distrust reappears and here comes your heartbreak; shattering into thousands of pieces. Now you must recollect with each rugged fragment you pick to piece your wound back together, stitching the edges together listlessly. You must place it back on display, ensuring its figure for the next visitant.

With the last bit of strength you are able to conjure up a slight coo: "Happens."

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ঠোঁটের আগায় জ্বালিয়ে রাখি,
স্মৃতিরা সব ফিনিক্স পাখি।

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If the infinite wouldn't sing of you, my heart would bleed;
Looking for the unsung songs inhumed in those hearts

who had loved and believed.

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