// the dreams could have been different,
but the void would have remained the same //

-

Darkness has a strange effect on our thoughts.
As I sit in my room with the lights out,
And a distant sound of piano float in,
I start to wonder.
I wonder about all the places that I left behind;
About all the roads that I didn't take.
I wonder about the relationships I never had;
And the people I never met.
I wonder about the possibilities that surround us:
All those zillion alternate histories that could have-
Made us end up on a different crossroad.
But then I realise, amidst all those
'What could've happened?'-s,
What's happened is the best.

-

Rainbows

-

yellow pages, faded letters and some lingering leftover warmth-
a smell of sadness, texture of loss, a stagnant void:
the book of poetry hadn't aged well, afterall, had it?
no, he knew, and yet the leaves felt fresh-
everytime he turned them, like a sudden wave of summer rain.
a gift from her, he had preserved the book- like so many memories:
some cloaked behind a mist of sorrow, some painfully vivid.
as he leafed through, he felt that he never needed a journal, for his thoughts-
were carefully embossed in the wrinkles of that poetry book;
as if every crack, every small blemish knew his heart too well,
and they knew his heartbreak too.
oh, how could he miss that daffodil- dry, worn out,
like so many hopes, so many dreams- stuck quietly in the last page.
a reminder of loss it was, and no poetic melnacholia
could for once sweep away the pangs from that flower.
how carefully had she put that in there on that blue, autumn day!
ah, truly a book of poetry it was.

-

have you ever wondered why people
think that chester was so right?
why nobody cares when another light goes out,
in a sky of a million stars?
and no one cares,
when someone's time runs out?
i now know, I do, and it kills me so much.
the pain isn't poetic, the thoughts aren't starry,
they are like that dark cloud that envelopes the night sky.
why is death so near? can I smell it?
do I feel its presence, right at my door?
questions, a zillion questions, and i laugh,
cause that's what you can do right? 'put on a happy face'-
that's what they say, be a joker of your own life, if necessary.
people think the ones who take their lives are weak, are cowards.
fools don't even get-
that they have waged more wars
than they can ever imagine.
judgements are so easy, right?
so easy that even the dead isn't spared.
does your life ever suffocate you?
you shout for help, and only get emptiness in return?
and then you wonder, atleast for once- is destiny really worth it?
if i'm not there, if you're not there, does it really matter?
which narcissistic human said that 'you matter'?
my head splits at nights, even the stars ignore my silent screams,
all i'm left with is a lingering void.

-

everytime it rains for the first time
in the season,
i travel back in my mind,
to my old school room- to those wooden desks and painted walls,
those big black boards
marked with the greasy remnants of washed chalk powder.
i become that sixteen years old me again.
and amidst everything, there's always you-
laughing, smiling ever so softly at some silly jokes,
a wrinkle around the corner of your right eye,
the curl of your lips-
i see those again, all in front me.
and i ask, as the rain gains it speed, and the wind howls, the trees shake violently-
why?
and that's all i can manage, everytime.
to this day, whenever it rains for the first time, i remember you.
and everytime, something inside my heart snaps.
i take a whole year to mend it,
till another new-year's rain arrives.

-

"And how come you fell in love with me?" She asked.
"I just did," he replied, dreamily looking into her eyes.
"Don't you 'just did' me. Tell me, why did you fall in love with me?" She persisted.
"Ah, you ask too many questions. Keep quite. Okay, here's the truth, I did not," he replied, more in an attempt to keep her silent.
"What?" She asked, stunned.
"Ah, you just ask too many questions," he replied, softly this time.
"But how can you so blatantly say that you didn't fall in love with me?" Hurt clear in her voice.
"Because I'm still falling in love with you," he replied, still savoring every flickering emotion from her deep eyes.

-

An evil shall rise from the ashes,
From the ruins of a fallen empire
And it shall kindle a fire of hatred,
That would dim hope, brighten despair.

-

I was like a Crusader, riding my neighing horse, in an attire of red crossed over white-
In response to the call of the Byzantine Empire, for the sake of my faith, against the Turkish 'infidels',
'Deus vult!' I had screamed in ecstacy, my chance of salvation so close, fear of no sins;
And you were like a sombre mid-desert oasis in the Middle East, a small lake of love, more enchanting than the cries of war.
I was like a soldier of Wehrmacht, posted on the beach of Normandy, where nothing but blue stretched in front of me-
Holding my Maschinengewehr 42 tight, as the slaves of capitalists jumped from boats onto the beach,
The flickering brightness in my eyes reflecting my hopes, my chance to serve the right headed eagle, to serve my Führer,
And you were like a distant, white, cheerful seagul that flew without knowledge of any looming violence.
Throughout ages, my love, I have been the antithesis, an echo of darkness pervading your bright lights,
But I have always looked at you in admiration, as history repeated itself through destruction,
On the bloodstained battlefields of Holy Wars and on the graveyard of maniacal fascism,
And I have always sought the momentary solace you offered.

-

I've always been so bad at goodbyes;
Falling curtains and rolling credits unease me,
Thus, sweet, melancholic adieus have never been my cup of tea.
But I want to know so much, before I wave last,
Before I finally set myself free.
I often wonder, how does death feel like?
Is it a dark abyss, a catacomb of no return?
Is it even darker than my mind,
That in hard, white winter seeks for a romantic autumn?
I've been a silent wallflower all my life,
Mixed in the hazy twilight-background
Looking at things unfold with uncertainty;
And maybe that's why nobody ever noticed, or didn't want to,
That I too sometimes need a shoulder-
To cry my thoughts that are stuck so deep.
So my 'au revoir' is silent,
For I've always been so bad at goodbyes;
But this time, I'll let the curtains fall and the credits roll,
For, really, no one cares when one more candle dies.

-