காதல் இல்லாமல் இல்லை காதலா.
ஏதோ ஒரு இரவில் நீ சொன்ன சில வார்த்தைகள்
என் இதயத்தில் இருக்கும் அத்தனைக் காதலையும் தாண்டி சென்று
ஒரு சிறு கீறல் உண்டாக்கியது.
அதிலிருந்து ஒவ்வொரு முறை நீ என்னை உதாசீனப்படுத்தும்போதும் அந்த கீறல் விரிவடைந்து என் இதயம் ஒரு வெற்றிடமாய் ஆனபோதும்
ஆங்காங்கே கொஞ்சம் ஒட்டிக் கொண்டுதான் இருந்தது உன் மீதான என் காதல்.
ஆனாலும் அந்த மீதமிருந்த காதல் சிந்திய கண்ணீரில் மூழ்கி என் இதயம் மூச்சுத்திணறி இதற்கு மேல் என்னால் தாங்கிக் கொள்ள முடியாது என கதறியபோது என்னால் அதை உதாசீனப்படுத்த முடியவில்லை காதலா.
இன்று நீ உண்டாக்கிய அந்த சிறு கீறலிற்காக நான் மன்னிப்பு கேட்கிறேன் என் இதயத்திடம்,
என் இதயத்தை காயம் செய்த
உன்மீதான அந்த காதல் மொத்தமும் என்னுடையதல்லவா.

நிலா.

-

He is the kind of guy
who loves to sit with her
in the balcony
and discuss the moon and the stars,
while he plants a kiss
on her forehead
to heal her scars
and to let her know
that she is his
even when the whole world
says otherwise.
She is the kind of girl
who loves to lie on the bed,
wrapped in his arms,
talking about flowers and birds,
while she holds his hands
to calm down his fears
and to let him know
that she can look into his broken soul
through his fake laughter and smiles.

nila.

-

பழகிவிடும் தன்மையுடையதே தனிமை.
காய்ந்துவிடும் தன்மையுடையதே கண்ணீர்.
எனக்காக செலவிடாத உன் நேரத்தில்
உனக்காக காத்திருக்கும் என் டைரியின் பக்கங்களில்
ஓரிரு கவிதைகளைக் கிறுக்கிவிட்டு
என் தனிமையை தீர்த்துக் கொள்கிறேன்.
அந்த டைரியின் பக்கங்கள் முடியும்போது
என் தனிமையும் பழகியிருக்கும்
கண்ணீரும் காய்ந்திருக்கும்.

நிலா.

-

I'd write a whole essay
on how we used to be,
on how much I miss you.
It just wouldn't do justice
to all the memories of you
that I still treasure
inside that broken heart of mine
you tried so hard to fix.
You planted a garden in me
when my land was parched.
You gave me your hands
when I fell.
You gave me your love
when I broke.
You told me to look at the stars
to remind me that
the moon was never alone.
I'd write a whole essay
about you,
but then,
you, my friend,
aren't supposed
to be an essay,
you are meant to be poetry,
beautiful enough to be read twice,
but complicated enough
to be understood.

-

the world has rusted
at the corners
of the perfect sphere;
she no more tries
to make it make sense;
she knows it doesn't.
the rusted corners
of the world
has inflicted
a lot of wounds,
it shows on her wrists;
she opens her pen,
she loads her pistol,
she keeps it
on her table
side by side;
she keeps staring
at her scars
and her poetry,
the pistol can
heal her poetry,
the pen can
heal her scars;
she has no choice,
she chooses both.

nila.

-

the world has rusted
at the corners
of the perfect sphere;
she no more tries
to make it make sense;
she knows it doesn't.
the rusted corners
of the world
has inflicted
a lot of wounds,
it shows on her wrists;
she opens her pen,
she loads her pistol,
she keeps it
on her table
side by side;
she kept staring
at her scars
and the poetry
she had created,
the pistol could
heal her poetry,
the pen could
heal her scars;
she had no choice,
she chose both.

nila.

-

I don't force myself
to create poetry.
I let poetry
embrace me
and caress me
with its metaphors.
At times,
the gentle caress
becomes a little wild
inflicting a thousand scars
all over the body,
which aches beautifully
but each in a different way.
I don't force myself
to write poetry.
I let poetry
kiss me on my lips
and it reminds me
of my thirst
for all the venom
its tongue holds inside.
Once in a while,
I let poetry
stab me in the back,
mind you,
it's not betrayal,
but an honest effort
to save me from
the long dead world.

nila

-

You thought
you had moved on,
that the wounds have healed
and the scars won't hurt,
while in reality,
it's never possible
to completely leave the place
where you've been broken,
there will always be
tiny shattered pieces of you
scattered on the ground,
that will hurt your feet
every time you walk on it,
it might even make you bleed,
the wounds may open up again,
the scars may ache again.
You thought
you had moved on,
but every time
you run back
to poetry
with tears in your eyes
and a void in your heart,
it's proof that
you never really moved on.

nila.

-

Sometimes, it's just too much to take.
Your chest feels heavy,
you understand it gets heavier with every heartbreak.
You feel caged inside a life where there seems to be no escape.
You find yourself trapped inside the darkness of your thoughts.
You realise it's too much for anyone around
to understand what is going on inside that messy mind of yours.
You try to put down your emotions into words,
but the paper remains blank
and the heart remains empty,
just empty.

nila

-

How does red symbolise
love, lust,
courage, danger,
agony, aggression,
passion and anger,
all at the same time?!

-