I no longer wish to be around those whom I proudly call my people. Because certain attachments reveal how painful a shade of neglect can be.

-

Take me to the period where
I held my mind and soul tightly
so that they can lament sob stories
of each other.

Take me to the period where
I wandered freely like a floating
leaf on a river, directed towards
it's destiny: the sea.

Take me to the period where
I would laugh happily accompanying
the mighty creations of the
nature: My friends

Take me to the period where
I ink my heart out rather than
find a moment to dip my head
in a salt lake.

-

From being loved to wondering if it is true or not, the days have gone by, and I'm still replaying the videos of the past. Little did I know that the skip option was a few feet away from my sight.

-

Dear Dhivya,

Trying to make you feel alive has never been easy lately. This tripping tale of mine drifts me back to relive the horrendous conditions that I thought were over; the never-ending long trail of heartthrobs is smashing me to pieces. This diary of fake smiles, bitter truths, and painful emotions is an empty black canvas where no place for true love, and laughter is given nor will be. Can I hug you tight?

-

To the girl in me.

You are like the fireplace in my home, with which I can spend a thousand days alone in solitude, under the shimmering warmth. Not during winter but in summer, I seek your presence the most. You were the only person who understood what I always needed and kept yourself alive when I sought out help. I couldn't forget the moments when we would appreciate each of our presence and stick together just like the moon and the stars. I know you are always with me; deep within and yet again you forget to call it your home.

-

Trying to make you feel alive is like thumbing through the pages of an abandoned diary: torn, stained, and voiceless.

-

This throttled space and the dryness in my life I have lived along slurps me to the depth where no trace of freedom nor eternal delight ever lasted.

-

~ I was abandoned from life;
It was poetry that sheltered me first,
And now it's art, and then it will be nature.

-

Deep down, it's the downpour again;
Flooded are my eons of remembrances;
Tales undeciphered and desires yet to taste,
All they seek is a serene verse ashore.

-

After a long pause, I hear
the urge of my every single heartbeat
pleading me not to shut them again.

-