A N A E S T H E S I A


Often do I wish to have seen time a bit more.
I wish I could have seen life a bit more - for maybe that would have brought you closer to me. At times, I sit tired. I gaze aimlessly at walls and try to tell myself maybe at some point I will be at a space where you would sit quietly just to design a life for me.

I crave for giggles when I see clouds too dark. I wait for you to come and say a word that I couldn't write so far.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


I didn't fix a window pane.
The corner room up the stairs stayed dark in the day, nobody knocked its door. The broken glass brought light to it. Since the day the glass broke, I grew envious of that room.
The break in there, allowed a patch of sky to be seen except from the four walls in that gloomy, corner room.

The day I broke, there was no darkness, no light either. There prevailed a storm in me - no peace, no strength. I searched for you, for I believed you were a panacea, my patch of sky.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


It's been long I recited a poem that smelt tragic.
My senses would ask me to step down a lane
where the letters are dropped without ringing the doorbells.

I can still remember the day, well a bit in a haze,
the hour I uttered - calling it a break.
I could hear a voice narrating from a thick shattered book -
"...you were a console to his wounds."

Last night I had a dream of you and me in the lap of a sunset.
I wish I had a dream catcher.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


On one dusty, lazy morning, I woke up at your dream.
You were there, I could smell your presence.
But the dream faded till I moved the curtains and left windows ajar.

I left reading a book that day, with no corner folded.
I left the book at the page where I found the man promising love in the name of forever. For I have always loved happy endings - and I had seen some tear marks on the page at the last.

I have always had reasons to step out;
and a reason more to stay.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


To be home is all what I had dreamt of.

I never really wanted to glitter over all your thoughts.
I wished to be the reason of your smile for a day when
you would have left your prose half the way to see the full moon.
Days, noons and nights - chapters of time played a monologue on my life. The moments I was lost in search of an old, shattered daydream, I believed you would come and stitch every torn and wounded bit
- in me, with me.

I had reached my room after every nightmare to sleep for a new light. Never did I try to run back to the door - for the world knew I had the veil of solace, for the four walls knew years could do nothing, else than to leave them faded.

To be home with you - is all what I had lived for.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


I hear my mirror calling me lonely - I beg her not to. I have my stories where I live with a crowd, a bubble of calm and a smile mapped on my face. It's not a fault to stitch life in syllables of pain; fault is in the cry that lives unheard days after the break.

I see dreams of you in a haze of love where I strive to find a place beside you. But I fail. Yet again I look at you from the other road that once had promised to take me home.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


These days, pain comes with no signs.
It comes to heal me - from the wounds my last night hummed. Pain crawls in my room incessantly mapping my shadow - from head, hands and toes; it drapes me in and around.

I stand quietly and gape at the sky through the broken window pane. Somedays I draw the curtains - and stare at the ceiling; the walls growing taller with every crack, to meet it.

I had loved you with a clause unsaid -
my maladies were cursed to be my cure.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


The nights knock every no moon sleep -
I stay awake to etch a line of a harsh philosophy.
Sunflowers stay alive; still fresh and plucked from a garden nearby - in the vase that rests two steps away from the window that welcomes sunrise.

I grow each day - bit by bit, like a toddler's step; with each breathe I possess. I find it enough tidy to cut the page diagonally after sketching a beautiful rhyme of love.
"Why" - if you ask, my answer would sound - for I had always been taught love is imperfect and a streak of sustaining beauty is short lived within!

The night has come - for the moon shines today.
The night came - for the stars to glow brighter that day.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


The nights know no sorrow today, no pain or grief to shed. My days bring a platter of memories - I see myself lost in your thoughts, I struggle to find a tinch of me in your world. My days force me to dive into the pages where I was never easily pronounced. It gives a pain, a panic or maybe a drop of tear but
I inhale each day.

I wait for your stroke of validation in the void I lived in.
My life knelt before your words and dreams,
but you never knew how mournful screams echoed in me.
I have grown old, waiting for my memories to grey.

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A N A E S T H E S I A


I have witnessed clouds, with no rain by the day's end.
You thought it to be a rainbow but,
all I craved for was petrichor.
You knew how my days were black, in shades of gloom.
So you brought some thunders;
for lightning to bring a glow.

I look at myself -
the aura of dilemma peeps out.
I knew what love could be,
I grew to know what love can bring to me.

Love was an anesthesia -
For my wounds to heal.

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