Claustrophobia.

The solitary helplessness of a poet,
trapped in the brutal confinement of vocabulary.

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तंग जगहों का फोबिया है मुझे
तेरे दिल में घुटन सी होती है

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Since I was a child,
marriage was all about
vibrant colors, laughters,
white gowns
and happily ever afters.

But now,
as I have grown,
why does the thought
of marriage feels
all black, claustrophobic,
violation of freedom,
and phony never afters.

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the person I love
is also
the person I stay away from.

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I feel claustrophobic when

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When I stop writing
I erode from the inside
And wither.
I try to hide this,
But it doesn't stop hurting me.

There is a bitterness
When words buzz inside you,
But gets locked up
Like an unknown
And indescribable prisoner.

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A careless, he
A caring, she
Both were selenophile
Lost in the night sky..
Counting stars awhile
Made for each other
They loved the night
Both being a selenophile
Moon was their 1st love
That was also, alright

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I am a claustrophobic.
This is not my place.
I need wide windows,
Wide space in my room !

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