I treated Death the same way I treated Love. I tried to befriend him in hopes that he'd leave me alone too.

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A figment of my imagination

What have you become.. How do I tell you? The stories, the poetry, the words that live in me are so treasured that they are perishing. But not me. I stand here unfazed, rooted in past waiting to be withered by the future. Mourning the loss of what could be, the symphony merging from cacophony, your favourite quotes and some handwritten notes. The death of our poems lamenting out of existence and tears that have dried up, hollow shells of promises and eternity together, a plaque of potential surmounting the oblivion and one decent memory still stabbed in the back. How do I tell you what you have become?

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In my quest of finding the poet I keep stumbling on muses, like an atheist hoping to get his prayers answered..

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I wish you love. The same kind of love I have for you; angsty, fragile, pure, incomplete. I wish that someday you love someone with every ounce of your being. I wish you butterflies in stomach. I wish you making fool of yourself to seek their attention. I wish you day dreaming and inappropriate staring at their lips. I wish you happiness of being in love. I wish you love. The same kind that hurts even though there's no actual heartbreak. I wish you hundreds of cute scenarios continuously playing in your head. I wish you seek meaning where nothing is to be found. I wish you romanticizing every little moment. I wish you smiling at their mere thought. I wish you giving yourself palpitations. I wish you trying to make sense of this feeling and failing. I truly, sincerely, from the core of my heart wish you misery of the acutest kind.

Lets see if I can cheer for your unrequited love to forget about mine..

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Your happiest memories might one day cause you hurt. You'd want to forget people you once cherished the most. One day you might look back and realize that you don't recognize the faces you once worked with. Coz unpredictability of life seldom transpires through magnum events. It ebbs and flows through betrayal of a friend, through an epiphany you have once your favorite pet dies, through changing definitions of love you experience over the years, through the work you thought was just mundane and things you thought wouldn't matter in the long run.
I remember this saying written on a blackboard of our medicine department: THIS TOO SHALL PASS. How true, how cruel, how full of hope it really is..

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Dark clouds do have silver lining but it is wiser to seek shelter in a storm than to go looking for them..

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I'll write today.. perhaps not. Perhaps I will stop to pay my respects. I don't know how I got here, how could you keep me from our wake. You mourn with your loved ones and I am nowhere to be found. I am on my final quest to see you around. I have lost count of my tears, and blood from my freshest wound; touching blank canvases saving you from fallen grace. How I still think of you on some days..

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Where We Stand

Its not so much as vast fiendfyre
Its more of a slow sweet burn
Like when pepper makes its presence known
Like a hated muse that just happens to drown

Its more of a beginning of a pause
Its a non devastating break of a bond
Like a third act has just begun of a tragic opera
Like a home being wrecked in the French Riviera

Its just beyond a beautiful heartache
Its the reminder for those surviving
Like a dying flower that aromates a room
Like us.. until we were destined to doom

Its a feeling I cannot happen to shrug
Its an oblivious tear that rests undecided
Like a fireman severely lacking in courage
Like an uncomfortbale silence in a lion's cage

Its the butterflies in stomach about to die
Its the very groundwork of where we stand
Like a perfect ending to a very shitty play
Like a love story that never sees a day..

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I will make you immortal
I will mention you somewhere
In a small corner of a footnote
Which no one will ever see
You will be skipped over
And over and over and over
Neglected to a point of smudge
And you'll finally know
How you made me feel
I'll bloody make sure of that
Coz I'll make you immortal
To a point where you are lost to oblivion

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Ignorance is a Gift, just as much as Hindsight
And somewhere in between lies a profound lie

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