Canvas Talk

Funny how handsome your face looks
when you're tired
and how absurd
skin lies thin
over sounded bone
the uplands of cheekbone, jaw, chin
drawn close, leaning together
across soft valleys of cheeks
the unexpected promontry of
the ware
above this disconcerting contrast
of blubber, soft lips
concealing neat teeth

Rubbing your eyes
fingers enter deep
they draw you in, tempt
you to push
beyond the shooting sparks of light
to penetrate the brain

Beneath your touch
your face looks so handsome
all senses could be
extinguished
the whole animated mask
buried in two hands

My baby, my sexhay bear, my sweetheart, my sayang. 

The Games We Play

Spill.
Take your heart and your soul
the pieces and bits of you
you hide so well.
Out from the corners, and into the light
Let the hidden be known.
locked and untouched, what art thou but a broken tie
a fragile bond, my yesteryear
always there, but never around
like a song in my head
and a beat to my feet
you are truth; a reality.

Do not twinkle or let me blink.
Stay till you must be gone
Like rain must pour and I must breathe
Let your presence be my possibility.

As I scour through remains
and put you in an old box on the left
Smile at me through these photographs
As I hear you call my name
and live this love
in my head.

MY POOR LITTLE

MY POOR LITTLE CONTAGIOUS baby
no one's asking you to bed tonight
You said its okay, you're used to the late nights
and you were so tired, but you gave in without a fight.

Sunshine In This City

I’m looking for your face
Down these blocks, in the train
I keep thinking that these doors will open
and you’ll walk in.
I stand on the corners of these streets
Waiting for the light to turn green
I keep thinking you’re standing across somewhere

Looking at the way I walk, the rhythm in my feet
I fix my hair, I wear these clothes
I live
I be
In every little way
Just the way you’d want me to be
I don’t speak to strangers
Never look with anger at the eyes that devour me
I never run to catch buses
I walk, because you’ll be seeing.
I always look out windows

In the distant alleys, behind shadows of trees
I smile while staring at walls
At the smallest of moments
That cross my mind
I think about you more often than
I should
Maybe even more so
Than I knowingly breathe.

I be
This way and more
For the eyes that are never around
While the sun comes up to touch your face
There is sunshine in this city.

Love, Me

Take this glow off my eyes
the sparkle & shine
from the depths of my dreams
and make it fade.

Take these lines on my hands
& the way they burn with my faith
in what tomorrow may bring
and cross them till they can't be read

Take this depth of my heart
and its ocean of wait
and fill it with your truth
not your lies
or deceit

Undo yourself from the spaces of my mind
from the corners and the walls and the rooms inside me
pick these pieces
of your laugh; of your smile
like your eyes

Take yourself, and leave
Undo yourself
and all that I know of you

And if you can't
then just somehow
Love me.

The Tale of Two Cities

We lay in bed with our eyes locked in. The air is the same. We keep breathing but my breaths are heavier. It almost seems like they have been carrying a lot of burden on their shoulders. Your breathing however is much lighter. Its more carefree. Just like you perhaps.

It's not so much about the words. It doesn't matter what you say and how you say it. This is beyond just words. This is about your silence. And sometimes my silence but this is mostly about your silence. It slowly creeps up on me and settles into the dark moments of my life. It becomes my companion in those dark drawn out moments and all I can say is that I could not be more thankful.

I have told you so many times before... that you can never know how or what I feel about you. There is something very sacred about the pain love brings. It can only be idolized. And it can not be shared with anyone. So I'm not hiding my pain. I'm simply not sharing it. I know you are confused and it's totally okay to feel that way. Its like Science. There is no such thing as "Cold". There is only absence of "Heat". Do you get it now?

But you can't help asking me as to why sometimes it starts to hurt so much? And even though I want to tell you I just can't gather the words and reveal myself to you entirely. Because you might start to think things that are not your concern to begin with. So that side of me shall stay miles away from your shadow.

The truth of the matter is that you remind me of my childhood. Simple and content. But the problem is that a lot has happened since then. I would tell you but I think I would scar you as well and I would never wanna do that to you. The truth is that I don't think you would ever love me the way I love you. There was only one man. He hurt me and he hurt me a lot. And no it's not about past mistakes. They are not even worth mentioning now. It's about just one man. But let's leave it at that.

So let's just lay here in our beds. You on your side of the world and I on this side. Let our silence speak to each other because our words have miserably failed. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. But let's just do it. Our hearts are like cities. Our minds...continents of some sort. Often expanding. With invisible boundaries. The ones I once drew to keep you out. You don't need a passport to get in. You just need indifference to stay out and never care. But I know that's too much to ask for.

With silence being our new medium, let the tales write themselves from now on.

On the shore of apathy I stood still
Tried hard to suppress the silent screams
Love tried to cross the lines once drawn
In the cave of misery, I locked myself in

Starry Nights

Our limbs extend into long tree branches
As you lay with me in this starry night
Subtle breaths you breathe on my neck
Perfumed body adding to your sheer delight

Dampen hair wrapped around my fingers
As I lay awake around that aura of you
Witnessing those ever lasting galaxies in sky
Caressing thy cheek dipped in that glow

Early days of love, our youths were tangled up
In unsettled blistering rides of high and low
To the Heaven of passion among other things
Leaving grounds of uncertainty so far below

The journey embarked upon in thy company
Life's realism halted me from ever knowing
A knight in shinning armor you ceased to be
Far from that magical world of stars glowing

Set it free this one time, let it fly out the window
That imaginary heart I once drew just in the air
Hoping it would travel the world alone eternally
You then drew one too, we called it a pair

At last I wake up from this unfulfilled dream
Tasting that bitter sweetest life's essence
A life so scorching, it isworth living
Attesting to your surreal presence in my life

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!
Thanks baby. Best news so far.
I love you to pieces, syg.
My boyfriend.

One More Night

Sometimes I wish you would just... hurry up and get here; within knowing territory, close to speaking distance.

Sometimes, I wish we were books in a library age couldn’t mortalize and time lent distinction to.

Sometimes I wish I’d already known you my whole spent life, spend the remainder waiting on you. Whoever you are.

...Please, one more night?

Imperfect Control

In perfect control,
my every sense attuned to every fiber of his being
the sigh - as everything ends.
his tired breath,
his whispered joke,
his concentration
...is occupying my focus
he is in perfect control of my imperfect control.

Stinging Ice

Please
Don't be angry
When I come to your room
and rap on your door

There must be something
I want to say
I'm heard not believed
when your hate hits me hard
oh so hard

Ice
there's ice in your eyes
you're red when you're angry
And black as a storm
whenever you're wrong

Sting
You kill with your words
I stumble on mine
And even when you hurt
I'm fishing for apologies

You keep me wondering
with the frown and the sneer
if I ever really knew you
if I've done something unforgivable

Story

It's unfortunate. Life that is. At least certain moments are. And you just can not help it. That is why I call it unfortunate. The moments that are sad play on a loop. Its not fair to the good moments but sad moments take priority. Its the same with sad songs. Its unfortunate. But we already know that.

Like the one that unfolded today. They took turns in hurting each other. Then her life came to a complete stand still. He said something and her life stood still. Like in mourning. It was unfortunate. That's all that can be revealed here.

But its okay. Whatever happened that day made sense. He made her cry but he also lend his shoulder to cry on and in a twisted way that makes it okay. This time around she held his hand even tighter. He was only practicing his rights. That is all.

Just before falling asleep they promised to keep hurting each other. Forever and ever.

Its unfortunate but that is all there is to their story.

Anger

Your anger,
like embers on my skin.
So that I walk around all day with the searing pain
lingering all over my charred nerves.
And the soreness within,
like jagged icicles above my head
drenching me in fear.

But him. His anger is a source of mirth, a joyful tease.

Wooed

Don’t dive! I pull, you push me back
and now only bubbles at the surface.
You panicked, why did I have to confess
the insane depths of my emotion?

I knew and even though you're not in love,
though I wasn’t anyone else’s
why did I have to try and claim you?
Now everywhere I go there is something
to remind me of you, I can't
divert my mind, It shames me.

I’ve knocked on all other doors, I’ve tried
having the slashes on my heart bandaged.
Cos I’m torn between you
and the image in my head; the fiction I’ve always fancied.

Someone to swoop down from the skies,
and with all their lullabies,
break my insomniatic wake.

But then you came and you stayed.
swaying with me through my darkest days,
pulling me from my stagnancy

And even though you're not in love yet
or even someone else’s
I still cant quite believe it
that you were the rope I had been chasing all my life.

Reminiscence

I love all the things you've said, now that you're not around to say them anymore. 

I hate that you don't remember half of them. I hate that you think they only sound stupid. 

I love how your name crops up, deliciously and unexpectedly, in general conversation. 

I hate how it makes me start and stumble out explanations to upraised eyebrows 

who cannot fathom what we meant to us. 

I'm afraid you can't anymore either. 

If I asked you to stay, would you?

In His Arms

Siphoned off memories reverberating through space

Moment after moment collecting in times embrace

Weaving through the last dune of the desert sphere

Blood before milk and milk before the tears

And thought before hope before life before fear

Together bowing down to his chest to hear

His heart drumming, like a whisper for help

Stay

When you're gone, I’ll read all the things I wrote about you, and for you, and never had the courage to admit even to myself.

When you’re gone, I’ll realize I have nothing to hold you in. The gifts were passed on and days were spent, not documented through forceful posing. And I will be completely adrift wondering if anyone has ever felt this way, if you would ever have felt this way.

People will not know what I am smiling at so sorrowfully nor recalling so keenly and questions will be just as futile as remedies, because all I’ll have left to say for myself is one name.

When you’re gone, you’ll take me with you. All the good things I wanted the world to know me as will be no longer be worth being anymore. I will not have peace because my sanity depended on yours to shelter mine.

When you’re gone, I will break. A thousand times and again and again with every belabored breath and without picking up the pieces, break again.

When you’re gone, all my dreams will turn into mocking nightmares and all my hopes into jeers. Nothing will ever be in reach or wanted with the same sincere abandon. There will be no reason. When you’re gone, there will be no outward sign of the wreck within, but the flags I raise will forever be of a sickened surrender to wherever life chooses to take me now.

And then every place, every song, every stray cloud on a grey evening will be a little jab in my ribs from the inside. When you’re gone, I’ll wish you had stayed, and I’ll be sorry.

Quelqu'un M'a Dit

There are still
some bits of his face she hasn't kissed
yet,
some parts of his body she hasn't explored
yet,
running her tongue and nose
up and down his body.

His flesh creases, folds and lines,
its colour alters,

But then she never desired him because he was perfect, but because he was he.

Reflection

The way you smile at me makes my pulse skip a beat. My heart swells with feeling, till I feel every inch of me, to my very fingertips, is filled with the sensation of you. And then your hand folds over mine in the simplest of actions, and even after all this time, even after all this passion, this simple act is enough to make me want to wrap myself around you like a vine and never let go.

When you pull me close, everything else fades away. Noise, people, the world around all become a grey blur in the background, and I am a slave to you, lost instantly in the feel of your hand in my hair, lost in the volumes your eyes speak when they move over my face.

I watch you when you are not looking, and you are so beautiful to me. The curve of your cheek, your jawline, the way your eyes crinkle in laughter or in thought. I think I could go blind and forget colour, yet remember the way your knowing smile spreads across your face when you make me blush.

When Catherine spoke of Heathcliff, she said, "He is more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." It makes me think our differences are part of the magic - that two so entirely different people can be so like each other, can know each other so well. You match my edges to your own as though we are the same piece carved from the same puzzle, yet we belong to entirely different parts of the picture.

People say the danger of falling in love is losing yourself. But you reveal myself to me every time I look at my reflection in your eyes.

You

I wanted you.

A little bit, and a lot
parts of you at different times
and your whole every now and again.

Sometimes your eyes hidden behind your glares
the lines around their corners as you'd hint a smile
Sometimes your carved nose and the way it holds your face together,
and your glasses up
So our eyes would meet often, but only through that glass, and never truly touch.
Sometimes your lips, and the little that comes out of them
Sometimes the straight teeth and the witty mouth
that speaks of everything
but love.

Sometimes a little bit of you
Sometimes a lot.

I wanted you.

In Silence

In silence, I could devour his gentle eyelids
strip them of their candescence glow with stolen kisses
dim the lights down, a little lower than before
until his eyes hold the darkness of my face near his,
firmly.

In silence, I could leave his worries estranged
as I'd breathe love into the pulse dancing on his fragile chest, into his fearful heart
Clashing footsteps in my mind and his, while the street lights cast no traces of life.
This world of frenzy trapped inside his head
"Are we staying here, in this moment, only to leave?"
His thoughts drum faster, through his lips into mine
Fears. Unfathomable, unconquered.
I lay there, having won the game of loss
in hopes of building a dream
with him.

To The Moon and Back

I could close my eyes and let them breathe for once - away from his eyes
I could stop my heart from being split in two - and for once, conquer the way it feels.

I could tie my hands to his wrist and let him lead
I could hold onto this ill-made boat of love
and with it, sink.

Like the sky - too far to be truly ours.
Like silence from lips left uncertain.
Like tomorrows and their promises paper thin.
Like the dismissed agony of storms within.
Like love that'll never see the light of day
and measure to the moon and back.

He's mine.
Yet never will be.

Rid Me Of This Love

Leave the scars on my body
The lines of my lips
My knotted hair around your fingertips
Leave them all here for me
But, take this love.

Leave the aching sound of your laughter
Still ringing inside my empty head,
hitting every wall of my heart,
brushing each barrier around it.
But, rid me of this love.

Leave my eyes with your reflections
My hands with remnants of your strong arms
My muffled voice that speaks of you best
But, take from me this love.

Take these time of being everywhere but with you
With everyone, but you
And still being absent from it all.

Leave all of you that remains within me
I will carry that burden-- for I must.
Leave me nothing but your memories
But, please rid me of this love.

Muse

I blame you for this other world that I’m in
for breaking into dreams that need miracles to be fulfilled
I blame me for being susceptible enough to you
for allowing myself to be drawn in while knowing what you can do
for losing track of conversations, lapsing into unexplained smiles
finding it easier to lower my guard, smiling and throwing a tantrum, all at the same time
Remembering and smiling in the bitchiest of life woes, laughing at the lamest joke
Reconsidering a longer time, being hopeful enough to hope you are happy.

Heal

It's been a while since I spoke to you.
Say things I've wanted to.
Listen to what you have to say.
Chances are I wouldn't tell you anything out of the ordinary.
Neither would you come up with something I didn't already know.
We know each other too well for that.
Like the waves in the ocean, skimming the surface, not quite interacting with the dark waters, right at the bottom.
Yet somehow, fully versed with what every little, magnificent drop has to offer.
It's beautiful, no?

I'm aware of what reaction every little action would illicit from you.
There's something comforting in the knowledge that I can gauge, time and eventually smile an understanding smile.
The power that some invisible force of nature rendered to you, which enables you to reach out to me, before you really even do, is fascinating.
I'm struck with wonder at the enormity of our emotions.
Strangely enough, we don't feel the same things.
If I tasted sour, you tasted sweet.
If I leaned in, you stood strong, ready to embrace me.
If I danced to self-composed tunes, you projected two left feet.
If you said North, I'd run South.
And such was how we lay perfect in our imperfections.

You were the white light passing through a prism, forced to burst into a spectacular array of shining colors. That was me.
Blinding all, with the brilliance of my joy. Happiness that was tangible.
We lent this inconceivable energy to the air around us, and forgot all about the prism.
Naturally it's lost now.
Allowing you to remain the seamless white light you always were, originating from nothingness.
And me? Forget colors, grey or even white. I'm nothing.
Not a form of energy. Not of matter.

But let bygones be bygones.
These nights, as I watch you sitting diagonally across me, I wonder in amazement, how things change.
I don't feel hollow anymore.
Something feels like it's been healed. And that's what's odd.
I didn't know what broke in the first place.
Of course, even now I can't jerk the wound. It needs its time.

I still look at you with affection, and please know that I love you, with absolute sincerity.
I know that things will eventually change, and it has to, but I'm happy now, and I'm not thinking. Because I'm ready for whatever is next.
With you, or without you, I guess it'll have to do.
I have finally learnt that when there's somebody else looking out for it and relying on it, that is reason enough to smile.
I will do and say anything, as long as you are happy.

Until then, I'll keep washing the shores, while you kiss the sea-bed, and when on a nostalgic night, the moon decides to boast, the tides will change, a storm will ensue, and who knows?
We may just meet. 

Line

Was there ever a line? If there was, I crossed it, long, long ago. I'm so far beyond that when I turn around to look at the point where I started I see only a speck of vanity, a trail of ignorance, but above all, I see innocence. I'm lax. But when it comes to you, I don't let go. I knew you. I know you. You seem so close. Close enough that when I breathe, your scent catches me off guard. I inhale and it's like a rush of that breeze I can't see, I can't control, but it still chills me, still makes its presence felt, in a way that it makes me stop and think even amidst the flurry of colorless chores, faceless faces and hands that touch but don't leave fingerprints.

One of those days that I don't think about it, the breeze is even stronger in its intensity. You hit me hardest when I don't expect it. I've been walking in the desert for too long. So much so that when I spot that pool of water, I don't look left or right. I dive. You're beautiful. But only to me. Black, black, black, white. I zoom into you, as soon as I see you. No. Somehow, as soon as I sense you. 

It's not a war, I want them to know. I actually don't even care anymore. Because they'll think, think and think, but towards the end of it all, I'll still love you. And with so much pain that it's almost physically evident now. With so much intensity, with so much concentration that someday my love will be tangible. Something you/they won't be able to erase. 

You're the more comfortable choice. You're patient. You're important. You're love with a whole new meaning. Sometimes I can't even tell the difference. There's nothing that's not right when I'm with you. I love you too much to be unfair to you. It's not that I'm crazy. I'm a happy person with you. There's only an unhappy part of me, and it's growing restless. I miss non-conformity, but then again, how much do I know of it? This is probably the closest I've ever gotten. My eyes say a lot don't they. They always give me away. I don't want to involve, but someone, somewhere, has entirely different plans for me. What do I really want? That's immaterial. I could want to sleep on a cloud, I could want to hold a star, I could want to start over, I could want to just pause and feel what I'm feeling for as long as I'm feeling. I could want to stop breathing. That way, at least one sense of mine could be numbed toward all yours.

Things I Love About Saleh, Saleh & Saleh

There are little things I love.
Your dainty toes peeking out from under the covers, tempting me to pull and tickle.
The way your surly face transforms into a grudging, nose wrinkled, grinch-like smile when I force you to look at me after a fight.
Your new-found teenage stubbornness that reminds me of mine, only retired.
The premature creak of your door announcing your cat's sly, eaves-dropping presence.

How adorably innocent you look, asleep, in your sarong; stretched in innocent, elegant motionlessness while I skulk around for you to wake up.
Your pretty little mouth, habituated to bursts of mocking laughter and acidic retorts that make you look more vulnerable, the more you try to look ugly.
The unusualness uniting our laughs and giggles.

But I hate this standoff. And I hate the nameless things stopping me from reaching out, and you from giving in.
And I love you. More than these pitiful, tried and tired words can tell. Words that I feel ashamed to use.
Words; my fatal folly, second only to my pride, followed by palpable, painful silence.
Why do you think I tip toe around what I have for you?

There is a sheer drop on the other side.

When Love Is...

An Attraction 

He sat across from me that night

It was magical as our eyes conversed

Our time was up but I was too submersed

I was indifferent as to where he was from

He seemed carefree too hence our love was born 

Lust 

The boyish grins, the sparkling eyes

The sweet surrender, nothing to hide

Tension, heat, submission, passion

Touching, stroking, pleasure, addiction

Body meets body, eyes meet eyes

Midnight oil burns, body temperatures rise 

An Obsession 

You were meant to exist only for me

So I shall decide what these lips should speak

I crave for thee from the bottom of my heart

I'll remain hungry for your touch till I depart

I am the moth and you're the flame

Day and night, I breathe your name 

A Disease 

Sink into my blood and flow into my veins

What is pleasure if not soaked in pain

Everywhere I go your memories follow

The heaviness, emptiness and the hollow

Tonight let your thoughts be my ecstasy

And let this deadly storm outside be my pathetic fallacy 

A Deception 

Your love was a hoax it was all a game

You walked away from me now who do I blame

The lies, the broken promises, the torture

My heart is in a million pieces since your departure

The void you created will remain forever

You won't be forgiven, not now, not ever 

A Dream 

In the midst of this solitude

Falls a moment of gratitude

Where you and I are on a swing

Enjoying the cool breeze in spring

I wake up next to you in an hour glass

Where love sprinkles upon us for eternity 

Nothing But Love 

Through the back door of this thing called life

Let's escape to the world of pure fantasy

Just you and I walking through heaven

Let's build our home with abstract walls of love

And chimes being the only instrument for now

Let the winds compose the song of love tonight

Passionate Love-Making

He probed.
She was unsure.
But eventually yielded.
"I love you. You're amazing."
He won't say it back.
No, scratch that. He can't say it back.
Carefully, very carefully, he tries all he can.

Take two.
One small push and she's all his.
Moving in perfect synchronization of body, of life.
How does she say it?
Without him getting scared and backing off?
Her mind screams, "I love you! I fucking love you! And I've loved you all this while."
But her mouth stays locked in his.
The words lost in the heat of the moment. Drowned in passion.
"Relax," he says, sensing the urgency and the tenseness in her back.
She lets out a soft moan, as his hands move down, easing out all her apprehensions.

They shift.
The kisses are different.
His more tearing. Hers, softer. Her hand caressing his face. Obvious love.
Muffled gasps. Sharp pain.
Long drawn sigh.
Unshed tears, distracted by tethering his body, embedding her nails in his arched back.
Teeth gnawing supple skin.
Red. Color of hurt. Color of passion. Of love.

She strokes his hair as he slowly moves her hair out of her face to get a closer look.
He doesn't call her beautiful. Something stops him. At the very edge.
But she wants to know.

Lazy exhaustion. Slower kisses. Wild submission. Acceptance. Denial. Tired.
Women don't understand, but this is the best part. Contentment.
He snuggles closer. His hand always in motion against her back. He kisses her head discreetly, thinking she can't tell. She can. She can always tell.
He mutters with his eyes shut. Still holding her close. She doesn't think he realizes that this is the closest they've gotten in a long time. And it's the closest they will be, all bared, in a very, very long time to come.
"I wanna get a smoke."

This is it. She doesn't want to let go. She's finally found something comfortable. Comforting. Something that doesn't make her squirm, or jump back in disapproval and skepticism. She was scared she'd find out how irrevocable her feelings were where he was concerned if she ever landed up in something like this. And there you go. She found out. And it hit her so hard, that she doesn't mind not being carefully handled, or not called beautiful, or looked at with a certain kind of deep love only some pair of eyes can show her. For all she cares. Ravage my body. Be harsh yet truthful. Be the heartbreaker my friends have been warning me about. Do exactly this to me, again and again and fucking again. But be mine. In whatever limited and warped form that may be possible.

She studies the marks he gave her on her upper right cheek, the moment she gets home, and stands in front of the mirror, running her hands smoothly over each one of them. And then slowly turns around to see a slightly different, lonely one at the nape of her neck. She doesn't touch it, but quickly looks away. Thinking of the marks on his body, there's some consolation that he can't do away with them any time soon. She smiles a soulless smile. This is not me. It's not who I am. What am I doing?

Giving in because you've given yourself to him completely. Somebody please answer. Consumed. 

Anchor

I could see the fall, my fall. If I'd walked a little way up I'd face it. I was telling myself to stop. Scraping my feet against the ground, like a child living in denial, to the point where they started burning.

That's when you stood right behind my back and stopped my futile attempts. You were calm. Like the sea after a storm. You gave me a slight push and a reassuring nod. Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere. Walk. The life in me is being drained. There's a lot more waiting for you. Then why do I feel so abandoned?

You didn't give me an option. It felt like you were the catalyst. I blamed you. But a million emotions and a thousand feet later, I feel only gratitude. The firm hands, the only strength I've come to know, remain. The only constant. You are my oxygen. Not the the regular kind that I breathe everyday. But the limited kind that's in a mask. That saved me.

Every time I felt my legs giving away, you'd pull me up. Be my anchor. You'd say everything I should've. You may have even wronged the one you shouldn't have. But that's probably what made you for me... YOU. Thank you.

So engrossed in you. Complicated. Uncomplicated. Your concern left me without it. There was so much to deal with. Should I, should I nots'. It made me forget. Like a sugar-coating over all the deep, dark chocolate. It shines enough to capture your attention. It's all I needed, I craved.

You don't give me the time to think. To miss. To hurt. But more than enough to love.

You joke, it heals. You talk, it involves. You sulk, all smiles :)

You're the prelude, that makes my song beautiful. Captivating, authentic. They're all still whirling in the aftermath. They can't deal with it can they? :)

But let me be me. Not you. For I don't want to be standing at the edge again. I'm sick of refuting. I love you. I'm scared. :(

For now, I once again loop my arm through yours, for our walk through the nature reserve. Swept with comfort.

Fumes

Sharp edges and pitch dark. It's so cold. What is this place? I hear laughter far away. Really far away. I try following the sound, the warmth. But my face meets glass. Icy, hard glass. Unbreakable. I want to cry but the tears don't come. I want to scream but my voice is lost. I collapse on the stone floor. Crumpled to nothing.

"My baby, you know I really like you right? I want you to know, I'll always be there for you."

How does one change a habit? Your feeling is the only one I'm aware of. The feeling of 'you.' Even if you took me in your arms only to push me off the edge, I wouldn't flinch. The breaths would come and go. My heart would beat steadily, while I smiled and shut my eyes, only to embrace death. Because you gave it to me.

"You have to trust me. I will never break your heart. Please do not be scared. Let me in."

We're equals. Tiny fragments of me have been left behind, please look, won't you? If you didn't roll me into one and smoke it already. How did we get here? How did I get here? I've lost me. I've found me. Help. It's too lonely here. Too cold. I can try and cry. As much, in my burrow, and get done too, complete a circle, get back to the starting point and nobody's lives would have changed. But will you know? Somehow? Shut forever. I lay shivering on the ground. Faintly aware of distant laughter, conversation and oblivious joy.

"I'm in love with this moment. I love you."
"I'm sorry..."

You never said it. And I stopped breathing.

Sculptor

Dear Sculptor,

Thank you. For being my uncertified guardian. I never quite understood the concept of a cloud with a silver lining. A ray of hope. For me, when something goes wrong, it consumes me. It blurs my vision. I may have changed on the surface over the past few years. But I'm still the same person. When we're holding hands. When I slip them into yours. It's like they've found a place where they belong. And then I look at your hands. So sure and firm. So comfortable with what is and not worried about what will become. I think that pretty much defines us. Not so much as individuals. But more of our places in the friendship we share. You're keeping me together. Placing every little part where it's supposed to be and making sure nothing falls out of place. That I don't fall out of place. Like a sculptor possessive about his sculpture. The crooked, ugly, dejected sculpture that he found abandoned, but now makes it beautiful. And he even thinks that the beauty lay within the sculpture. The sculpture would beg to differ :).

It's you. The one with the magic. It's always been you. You've always managed to capture the beauty in everything that you see. That surrounds you. No matter how asymmetrical, unfit, and shabby it is. You have a beautiful heart. One that turns everything half as beautiful as itself, once it makes place for it inside itself. I'm probably one of those mildly "made beautiful" things by you. I never knew or thought I was anything worth a second look until you told me so many times that I finally looked at my reflection in the mirror for a second longer and almost believed you.

It's like I've transformed slowly since I've known you. I've learnt to be more of me than what somebody else wants me to be. I'd gladly be whatever you wanted me to be but I stopped trying the day I realized that all you really wanted was me. Just as I was. It was oddly unsettling at first. But I came into my own soon enough. And now I can just prop up my legs in an unlady-like way, or eat like a person who hasn't seen food in days. Or pull my hair back and wear clothes that do anything but flatter me and still know that you'll want me the same amount. That you'll still be the happiest to say that I was yours. And yet it doesn't make me want to stop trying for you. It makes me want to tell you every second of every minute of every hour of every day, that I love you. I love you for being so selfless when it came to me.

We never really grow out of being nine year olds. Throughout our lives, somewhere or the other, we're always haunted by the fear of being unwanted. Of being lonely. Of things not going your way. It's only the scales that change. The emotions remain. But I know I can go out and do something and face all of it now because you give me the strength to. You make your presence felt. It's like I can shut my eyes and be assured that everything is right because even if it's really not, you're there. When you tell me something's going to be right. It really is.

I'm so accustomed to knowing you'll be there that it's scary now. What if someday you're not? Funnily that's something I haven't been able to imagine. I can't conceive the very idea of not having you in my life.

You know that patch of shimmering water and the skyline that we see almost everyday? Can you imagine the water without the ever-changing-yet-constant horizon? It would be almost soulless. The sea itself wouldn't know where it should end. Where it's needed for it to stop. Where it would destroy itself. Or even the sky without the sea. A deep, hollow pit. Where you couldn't find anything. Not even yourself. That's how inseparable you are to my existence now. I just thought you should know. The most comforting and wondrous place I have ever known, is in your arms. And it hurts to turn over on my side, in the middle of the night, and not find you there.

I know, I know, this is probably the worst way you've ever seen anybody express themselves. But it's all that came to my mind. And for what it's worth, I really tried my best :).

I love you Saleh. My sweetheart, my sexhay bear, my baby. And I always will.

Your most grateful sculpture.

Sleeping Through Life (Memoirs)

We love, we hate, we turn.
I prop my legs up on the couch, and yawn.
Tousled hair and a nightie.
The sun, nudging past obstacles,
Touches my forehead tenderly.
And just like that you look at me,
You're beautiful, your eyes seem to say.
But your mouth just kisses me.

We obsess, we fight, we hurt.
With kohl-lined eyes and a scarlet mouth,
I make my way down the street now home.
But even home at night houses strangers.
But all dangers,
I pose,
Are to me. Myself. I don't know you anymore.
I tug at my dress, take off my tights,
And slip into you.
Into your once safe and warm hold.

We break, we take, and remake.
Bleak street lights on a cold night.
November clouds hover.
Two years later and I've already found a lover,
In the heart of this city.
Bound to it by an intricate weave of friendships,
Love, laughter, heartbreak and tears.

We think, we ponder, we procrastinate.
Strewn pillows across yellow bed sheets,
The whirring of the fan.
Blankets cover all the way up,
And you.

The innocent eyes are now a distant haze,
Seeing but not focusing.
Vacant with all the smoke.
Lover,
Call me beautiful.
Struggle,
I'll bear with you.
Drown,
Me into the deeper recesses of insanity.

Hour Glass

Most times I don't even know who the culprit is. Which one of us is contorting reality and dreams and concocting a bottomless pit to trap the other one into, not necessarily out of spite, and which one, pretending to be the victim, is resisting every little bit of this, somewhat possible without self-destruction, alliance.

But even in those briefest of moments where I can figure out the roles played by each of us in this convoluted yet such a simple way of life that we've temporarily chosen, I fall face flat because every lead in this 'investigation' hits me, and each time more forcefully, with the realization that we're both equally the criminals as well as the victims in this suspense.

Who is to say which one of us found whom. Maybe you made me catch on to the trail you so carefully left behind, or maybe, I lured you straight out of hiding because I knew exactly what you were looking for and exactly what you chose not to see. Knowing your target's strengths and weaknesses always made you that much more cautious, that much more powerful. We both knew each others, so then again, who is to say, which one of us was chasing and which was running. Who is to say, who caught up first.

This wasn't meant to sound dirty, and conspiratorial. I hold you so close to me that now I enjoy a smugness to do with buying your time, or your energy, love or care. I know that you do too, a lot more than you let on. Then where did I get involved in something that forces me to say that I'm 'In too deep.' I checked the depth before I stepped in. It was nowhere close to drowning levels, but now I'm not so sure.

I checked the weighing scales too, they were fair and not tampered with. Then how is it that in no time my side is tipping heavier? How is it that you keep unburdening your side? That shouldn't be allowed. If you're developing baggage, why don't you let me see it? Why do you have me under the impression that I'm the one that needs to be saved? When actually I'd much rather save you.

When we kissed that night, it was a lot slower than it should be permitted. It was like I didn't want to stop, like I was gathering every sensation that I could while it lasted. So who decides how long it lasts? You, of course. You say that you're scared of how intimate we are, while we're soaking up the warm sun, the same one that belongs to the entire city, but somehow uniquely belongs to you, after hours of only soaking up everything we could of each other. Like it would be the first and the last time that we could give and take so much without a soul watching, listening, intruding. I laugh and say it's because that I was mad that you've never done this with anyone else before. You don't contest that.

We're interlocked in a very fitting way. You make me whoever you want to make me whenever you want to, without changing the essence of me. And I enjoy these escapes from me. Especially because I can remember these experiences that almost seem like out-of-body ones. Sometimes what would work best would ensure that I could take you someplace else too, and I get the feeling that I already do. But it scares you to admit that I have the power to do that. And the novelty of this all scares you out of your skin, and I can see it while I'm watching you watch me. It's unnerving but I'm filing these memories away because something tells me it's all I'm going to have left of you. And it's not much. But it should suffice.

Nothing would have to change this if it wasn't what you were set out to do, and what I should be setting out to do. So just in less than two months, I'm going to lose something special, something beautiful and something I didn't think I would ever have, only because it's so free of the shackles that usually accompany something so pristine. And you know what the worst part is about losing something that's like home to you? The fact that you know exactly when you're going to lose it and even worse, that you're going to be putting away the next decade of your life on hold just waiting for it to return. After all, it's home.

TickTockTickTockTickTock...

Encore

Wake up one morning, in the same bed, the same house, the same you. Yet everything is different.

You don't complain about the rain anymore. The weather's not too hot anymore. Work isn't taxing anymore. And the hours aren't too short anymore. No, you're not in love. But in the prospect of being.

What happens when you've known someone, not so intimately, but intimate by default. And one morning they're changing the way you look at Life, or determining how many fits of rage, how many bouts of tears, how many shocks of happiness you're entitled to in a day. Or two. Or more.

You might want to get out of the situation. You might want to stay. But it's not up to you anymore. And when it was, you didn't even know you were in the situation.

All I want to do is hold your hand, when no one's watching, snuggle up to you after a much too intoxicated night, watch every little movement of yours, while you stay focused on television, with your head lying on my thighs. Watch you whisper to me that I'm beautiful, at the break of dawn. Stay, just for a cup of coffee, breakfast, and you. Steal looks and smiles, and hushed conversations, on cold nights. Exchange lives, exchange breaths, exchange souls and still stay intact.

Has it really been six months? It feels like a lifetime. Much too long for you to have been an impervious backdrop to the scenes in my reel of life and not have said a word until now.

Then why is it that when you chose to speak, and step out of every little frame of anonymity, to finally make me see you, you also brought with yourself a window to my old life, the ghosts that refuse to stop haunting. I want you without the memory of my mistakes. I want you without you being hurt or scared, of being you again. I want you, fearless.

I want you, and I don't register the thoughts of others, because when I look at you, I hear laughter, and a friendship, that at least in my head, I forged when I was much younger.

If only I'd met you then. If only I'd stopped myself. But you're in ink now. And I'm too far along.

Encore.

Dear Saleh,

Today after 6 months, 10 days, 22 hours, and 46 minutes, I feel upset. There's some stinging in my eyes. But they're probably yours. The tears. I want to cry for you. It's the least I can do. I do love you. Don't hate me for falling. Falling every way. In and out of love. Failing. Around attraction. Around confusion. I keep slipping because it's slippery. But you were a dry plank that kept its place for as long as it could. Stay, wont you? Don't make me hate this. Hate me.
Because no matter what. I know the pretty stretch will always exist. Those songs will exist. The smells and tastes will. The clothes will. The faint cologne will. The photographs will.
But most of all.
The feeling will.
And you and I will.

Yours,

Fyy

Oh, You

Wow.
Here it is.
There you are.
A year ago, I'd miss those eyes as easily. But now I have to tear my gaze away. I don't want to be caught. You know.
Of course I'm strong. I have no emotions. My heart's dried up.
And sure, I miss how you'd put your arms around me, just for a second, away from the crowd, and plant a kiss on my forehead, only to place me back in the drama, dreamily. Reality.
But I don't remember. I don't think. I'm closed. I'm strong.

"Are you listening to what I'm saying?!"
"Yeah babe. But. I have a new plan. I'm putting things into perspective. Wanna hear about it?"
"Sure."

Dear Oblivion with a face. I love you.
I love being with you. I love the the task of containing you, just for the thrill of what you're going to burst into next. Exploding.
I didn't say that. I don't love. I don't feel.
Who knew you'd creep into me now? NOW? Why me? Self preservation.
Must.
Be.
Strong.
Inside of me.
Hold me by the waist.
Shut me up with a kiss.
Laugh at me, let me sulk, and then give me such a look that I forgive murder.
Keep me where all I can breathe is you.
Trust me, that all I want is you.
Flawed. Inconsiderate. Oblivious.

I did not say that. My heart's dried up. I hope the ink does too...

Dear Saleh,

I want you to understand. I've loved you today, yesterday and all the days before this. You were the best thing that have happened to me in a very long time. Thank you for everything. I appreciate and acknowledge all the times, moments and pleasures that we shared together. I hope you find what you're looking for. Please don't be afraid to let people in. Sometimes, all they ever wanted was the best for you, I promise. Today isn't goodbye, but a premature farewell. When the time comes, I want you to be happy. It would mean the world to me seeing a smile on your face. Be very safe, always. Good luck, my sweetheart, my sexhay bear, my baby. :)

Yours for the last time,
Fyy

I Think It's Time We Stop Pretending That You Didn't Break My Heart

I am whispering. It feels so long. I am forgetting how you sound. Your voice is a wisp of vague recollections. I crunch up my face to remember, in vain. Your laugh no longer haunts me. Your thoughts are seldom visitors and have learned to knock. Your words don't make sense and I can no longer connect with them. Is this sad? I wouldn't know. I have stopped feeling. 

I think of you. From time to time. But emotions don't well up anymore. And there are no tears to fight back. My heart doesn't hurt. It continues pumping nonchalantly, doing the required. The bare minimum. It's tired. Tired of all the sleepless nights and the broken beats. Burdened. Vexed. Weakened. Scared.

I spent a little part of the night out in the balcony. In my sleeping bag. It was cold. And my cardigan smelled of you. I could see the stars. I think I missed you then. In that moment. When the melancholia sliced through my skin and the moon shone despondently over me, trying to stop the bleeding. Annoyed. Give me a smile, everything around me seemed to say. But you are not here. And it feels a waste to even try.

You don't have a clue.

What it's like to be next to you

And I am here to tell you

That it is good

That it is true.

And we are talking through the hours. About corporate attire, interviews and being too choosy. I am pretending to be miffed. But I am not. I can't remember the last time I was this happy. It's night. And you are wonderful company. But you know that already.

You are such a miracle to me.

I wish there were more just like you.

You are not like all the others

And that is why I love you

Are you ma raison d'etre? Am I on the wrong track? Will I meet anyone like you? Everyone needs to be somebody. Everyone needs to find someone who cares. I don't know if you know what I mean...

I want to be dissolved into this night. It is too beautiful to not want to be a part of. I want to disappear into its opaque curtains. I want to be lifted from myself and taken far away. Or maybe I just want to disintegrate into little molecules and float through the air and away. I have always wanted to be in more than one place at a time. And standing with one foot across the border just won't do it for me.

That look you give that girl you're in love with.

I wanna see

Looking right at me.

When I go to bed, I dream of you. And when I wake up I dream some more. It's quiet at your side of the world. I wonder what's happening. You miss me. I know. You don't have to say it and you won't. You miss the laughter. The witty banter. The random journeys. The shared dreams. On nights like these, I miss you too. But you don't know.

Sing Me To Sleep

Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep... I'm tired and I want to go to bed.. There is a certain kind of unexplained pain, in loving you. Something which I can't put to words. Something new, and terrifying. Something about a shattered night and blue stars shivering. About how I love you and sometimes, you love me too. And tonight, I am one of those stars, indistinguishable, distant, shivering. Alone.

Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep... sing to me, sing to me, I don't want to wake up on my own any more. But I couldn't get myself to smile when you talked about a better world. And all I could think about was a place where we will be someday, without each other, without the memories. Without love. And I just couldn't get myself to smile for you. And I continued to watch the patterns forming on the wall, drifting away.

You tell me that my love is too much for now. But sometimes, I think about how it might be, to run into you some day. A year, few or ten from now. To walk through a supermarket aisle and find you standing at the other end, pondering over a choice of yogurt and holding the hand of someone else.

Our eyes would meet for an instance and I would look away and back, not sure if it really was you. Because I would often find your face in a crowd and in places you had no reason to be. You would take a step towards me, and then another. But the woman would yank at your sleeves and pull you away. And I would feel the pain I am feeling now, as I turn around and walk away.

And I would start crying silently, as I run back home in the pouring rain. But you wouldn't come to me and whisper sweet nothings till I start smiling into your shirt. Because someone else stains your whites with their mascara now. And I wish you could just sing me to sleep.. sing me to sleep... because I am tired and I want to go to bed.

I Will Never Let Anyone Touch Me The Way You Did

Somehow with him, she is not so angry. Not so fearful.

This is love and all she knows of it - sometimes it hurts, and sometimes it is wonderful, and sometimes it is strange and mostly it is beyond understanding and overwhelming.

This is the only way she knows how to love - resting her head on his shoulder, wearing his shirts to bed, writing her heart out in posts, using endearments she has never uttered before, recognizing despair in his voice and weeping for him, giving him all of herself.

The only way she knows how to be - his.

She has spent her whole life around love, wanting it, needing it, seeking it, waiting for it, feeling it, losing it and sometimes she wonders if she has ever before known what it is.

I was sitting by the window sobbing last night. I was thinking of that man I dreamt of all those years ago. He would want nothing more than he wanted me. He would understand what was inside me. He would untangle those endless intricate knots at my core simply by being himself.

But most of all, he would not have to break me to love me. He would not wait till my tears flowed. He would sense my pain in the way I said his name. He would know that if you sliced away all the layers of my anger, you would only find someone hurting.

He would not have to break me to love me. He would love me anyway.

I sat by the window and sobbed and remembered, you take care of yourself. No one takes care of you. No one should have to. You are your own responsibility. You heal yourself.

I will never let anyone touch me the way you did. 

Can You Make It Feel Like Home If I Tell You You're Mine

You don't ever think of waking up to me, of coming home and looking forward to seeing me, glancing at your dressing table and seeing my make up and perfumes cluttering one end of it, knowing that the pillow on my side on my side will smell like my shampoo, catching my eye and seeing me smile almost shyly in a fogged up bathroom mirror. These things don't mean anything to you...do they?

She hoped so much she was wrong. She was a fool.

I want to close my eyes and disappear behind my eyelids for a few weeks. I just want to find a place to sit under the sky and I would walk and sit and lie down in the rain for hours and let it all be washed away. I would sit at night under that monument and look at the horizon of city lights marking those millions of people out there who are all struggling in one way or the other. The horizon of a city that would belong to me in a way it belonged to no one else.

I want to walk huddled against the bitterly cold wind and the snow by myself, walk for hours, until my mind is overwhelmed and blank with exhaustion. I want there to be absolute silence, so when I finally speak, I hear myself. So when I finally speak, I know myself.

I would learn to be alone again.

Loneliness is the human condition. No one is ever going to fill that space. The best you can do is know yourself... know what you want.

I worry sometimes I have nothing left to give to someone new. I have given it all to you. Should the need arise, will you return it to me please?

I Want To Chase My Dreams

Were it possible that I was your dream.
The one from which all others were borne.
The one that gave all others their meaning.
The one that reminded you of who you are.
Who you are meant to be.

If only.

What is love, when you love so cautiously? Careful not to lose yourself. Careful not to hurt yourself. Careful with your heart. Careful with what you give me. Careful with what you trust me with.

Stop the hurt.

Did I tell you he loved her. Some part of him always has and always will.
Did I tell you he used to beat her. For years before we could stop him.
Did I tell you how much she loved him. Even today and I wish sometimes I could stop her.
Did I tell you what it is like to watch them break apart in front of your very eyes, your terrified eyes and your shaking unsure hands.
Did I tell you when I cry, I think of her and I cry harder, because if that can happen to someone so young and beautiful and innocent and virtuous - think of what will happen to me.
Did I tell you.

All this unsaid pain.

I forgot that important lesson. I once told you, how painstakingly I learnt it. I forgot again but now I recall. This is what it was; no matter what you do for, or how much of yourself you give to someone, you never earn the right to expect from them.

Never expect.

I want to chase my dreams. Those glittering city lights out there, the people I want to know, the things I want to do, the futures I could have, freedom so strong I can taste it.

But I would give them up to be with you.

That does not make me weak.

Only foolishly in love.

May you have everything you have ever dreamt of. Good luck, darling.

About A Boy

Watching him, was one of her favourite occupations.
She would watch him as he walked around the house -
after his shower, his towel wrapped around his waist, and looking sexy in it,
putting on his sarong, sighing and humming as he did so.

She became a connoisseur of his body - transfixed, obsessed even;
She needed his company, his reassurance, his presence.
All day he was different, his numerous moods transforming his look,
and she followed them, indeed lived in them, as a woman irrevocably in love with a man.

See-Through

City lights don't consume the fireflies. A sky dotted with stars appears to end in the horizon, miles away from here. The endless night seems to be ours entirely.

Mornings. Circles of smoke rise from our mouths, peacefully. We watch them merge and diverge. Play little games, between themselves. And form shadows on our naked thighs. Even smoke isn't see-through. We gape at its translucence. And then, at each other. Our immaculately complicated opaque selves.

We aren't see-through either. You've no idea what I am. And vice-versa. Yet, we are here. Now. Our endless nights and translucent mornings.

This must be love. Because all I want ever, is to do apart what's real from that all encompassing illusion. And in that chaos, this love feels real, despite its many tempting tendencies to merge with a parallel dream. It feels rock-solid.

Tonight

Can the truth be forgotten for one night?
Can I come back to you for tonight?
I promise, I will get away before you're up in the morning.
Can we ditch the past, and care not about the future?
And slip into the present, just for tonight, love.
The corner in your bed, that belonged to me,
Can I have it again, just for tonight?

Can I brush my fingers through your hair?
And kiss your forehead?
And watch you sleep?
Can I see you tonight?
One time, one last time.
Can I love you tonight?

My sweetheart, my sexhay bear, my baby...

I've Got Tonight

Tonight is moist with the memories of another night. Another night, on which I wanted to elope with you. Gasp, and leave everything and everyone behind. I was almost toying with the idea, flirting with it, tempting it. The idea. Of giving up the all the notions I grew up with and take a huge leap. Because I had fallen for your faults. And for the beauty in those. I had fallen and probably must have hit my head and was delirious. And saw things that weren't ever there. Like your familiar silhouette on the wall opposite. Like love for me in your eyes. Both of your eyes. Like a non-existent future, wherein we would embrace each other in entirety and honesty, by getting past what seemed like some stretched list of childish differences. By getting past the many notions we were brought up with. Exactly like how I had wished I would, on some night I now both miss and regret.

I wished to chase you in and out of the shadows on the streets. And then corner you and laugh with you till the day broke.
But, seriously, what was I thinking. What was I thinking.

Past

She sees him all the time.
A tall figure silhouetted against the dark of the night in the car's headlights. The back of his head at a popular restaurant. His hands steadying an older woman beside him. The curve of his neck as he turns away to answer a phone call.
He is always at the corner of her eyes. If she tries to look at him directly, he moves further and further, ever more indistinct. So she must settle for the hazy outline of his profile, the shape of his shoulders, the way he stands,
must settle without the smooth line of his jaw, the depth of his eyes, the sound of his voice, must settle without so much but this is life and she moves through it day to day, never pausing to think, that will surely break her, just persevering.
she dreams of meeting him. She dreams that she looks at him, and for a girl who has spent her whole life hiding things, it is the first time she wants to look at someone and have her eyes speak for her. Tell him everything.
He reaches out to touch her and the instant their skin makes contact, she wakes up.

The first blow sends her to her knees, hot blood spurting from her nose. She cannot believe this is happening to her. In slow motion, she raises her hand to her face, sees the blood and begins to turn her face towards him.

The second sends her sprawling across the floor, choking on dust and the metal taste of her own blood as her teeth cut into her cheek.
When the first kick lands in her ribs, she hears a woman scream.

He twists her hair into his hand and drags her head back so she can watch through her hazy vision. She takes a fist to her face, and her skin splits and blooms deep red, the blue sky seems to surround her, swimming across her world,
while he pummels her body, her soul takes flight.

Every woman. beautiful. strong. a swan. steel under silk. flowing like moonlight over ripples of water. Bent and twisted to another's will. silence. Tears they only cried to God. The costs of making their choices. They broke free. Broke their bounds. When the heart can take no more, it ruptures. They broke free, broke apart. Rose like a glowing phoenix from ashes and soared.

When he throws her like a ragdoll to the ground, grit biting into her lacerations, she is no longer there, her face serene as blood ebbs and flows. The fate of millions before her glistens within the one diamond tear drop on her eyelashes - the stars tell the fate of millions after her.

Conversation

People speak because there are things they don't want to hear;
They listen because there are things they don't want to say.

Certainly they both considered conversation a pleasure.
Sometimes they talked with their faces pressed together;
Sometimes with their backs to each other.
In fact they would go to bed early, so that they could talk.
They would take their conversations to bed, lying there for hours,
going over each detail of their day, content in the knowledge
that they would wake up with one another.

Paraphernalia

I will let the folds on your bed-sheets stay. I will leave them the way they are, until they become creases. I won't empty the ash tray ever. The imprints of your lips on the cup from your last sip, is a thing I would never part from. I will cage your smells in this room, for the years to come. Your voice, your hmmm's and ohh's, forever.

Your touch, our dreams, the castles we built, I swear, I will keep them safe. Until the day, you come back to me. To continue my life from where you had abruptly paused it. To pick me up again from where you had abandoned me. To love me again. To make my story come true.

The Right Kind Of Words

Someday, when sunrise dares to compare itself to you,
You in all your morning radiance,
You, searing white light in all your awe,
I will toil endlessly
To find just the right kind of words
To tell you, if I get the chance,
Just how much I lost
When I thought I could lose you
And live to tell the tale.

I & II

I

As I try to forget you right now I find it very heart-wrenching. but that's imperative. I can't afford to have you in my mind beyond a certain time. Love is a power game. Of the worst sorts. Besides, love gives you the power to hurt me. By loving you, I give you this supremacy over me. It's like you rule my moods. You totally hold the strings of my life. I have confirmed it many times over that I would want you a hundred times over all the other wants in life. I bear the consequences of every inconsequential thing you do. I am like the china in your hands. For you, I dream of the pros and cons of if-only's.

II

All this time I have tried to hate you because I am done convincing me that you are not the one, because you can't just be the one. I never fell for you. I never will. It's an impossibility. But there is a glitch. No, it's not even that. Just a dormant fear within me that at the end of time, it could be you, if not anyone else. Then, I would have to keep all ego aside and take you in. It's this constant fear of this contingent future that keeps me on my toes, always trying to hate you. Yesterday while crossing a busy street, this thought crossed my mind. Is it you? What if it is you? What if it has always been you? I am doing a worst-case scenario analysis. Fpr you, I fret over the pros and cons of what-if's.

Cadaver

The smell of burning flesh is intriguing. Enticing. Arousing.

The way the flames lick his body. A lick at the groin and he feels the heat on his neck. She watches, wide-eyed and paralyzed, watches the fingers move down, painfully slow as they roam her supple thighs, the heat of the fire matching the heat in her crotch. The room is ablaze, but this ritualistic fascination keeps them cold in their motions. Her skin is crawling, her skin is peeling, his senses are wired, his urge rising with the beat of her moan in every stroke.

Bodies join, and the heat rises a thousand degrees. The union breaks, and all energy is spent. Frigid breaths put the fire out, and the beat is never the same again.

Of Feathers And Fluff

I am, once again, a shape made out of pillows, your kisses of feathers and fluff, an interruption mid-dream, a comfort while you're gone.

Such body lovers have, such exacting breath, that they touch or sigh. Just for a little while.

I love you.

And You

I absolutely crazily adore you. I worship you, and the steps you take. From wherever to wherever else you move.

I beseech you; to grace me with your presence for the rest of my life. 

So the entire affair of living is a joy. 

An affair of heart and of spirit.

Tomorrows

Come, stay with me, my love. Time will slowly pass, and these warm sunny mornings will be spent looking back. But let us come together, and think not of what has gone, but what is to come. And make our tomorrows the best yesterdays when time is up.

Thank You

Dear Saleh,

You’ve only been gone for a day, but I already miss you. I’d formed an emotional attachment to you, one so deep that you’ll probably be one of my favourites for all my life.

You’ve been like teacher to me, teaching me important lessons about Life with all the seriousness of buying me a cone of ice cream. The opportunities you threw my way changed my life completely, when I was least expecting it. The growing-up I’ve had in the last 6 months has been incredibly overwhelming, and it’s something almost tangible, because I can see what has changed about myself and how I treat situations differently now than I would have before.

It was with you that I started writing again in my blog, something that became one of the biggest parts of me surprisingly soon after its inception. It has helped me understand myself better, has taught me how best to live with myself and what, according to me, is the best form of catharsis. I’ve grown as a writer as well, and for that I can’t express my gratitude in words, ironic as that might be.

You gifted me with depth of character at the same time as showing me shallowness. You taught me about the futility of pushing a wall, about failure, change, paradigm shifts, acceptance, freedom, peace, love and hate. You instilled in me a kind of confidence I didn’t know I could ever possess, a kind of acceptance I didn’t think I could allow.

You taught me to apologise for mistakes I’ve made, to be able to face the consequences of a bad decision, to be accountable, to hold the reigns of my own life and steer. With you around, I learnt to accept realities about myself that I’d long since repressed, and you gave me the confidence to be who I am and live life on my own terms unapologetically. You taught me to be straightforward with myself, which today, helps me be straightforward with others. I may still have defences, but I can say with all honesty that there are barely any that I consciously keep up myself, and the ones that I do, I’m aware of and can admit to having.

As a lesson for earlier in my life having been presumptuous enough to label certain activities as those I’d “never deign to do”, you somehow manoeuvred my life to take a path where these activities became a common, everyday occurrence. If the girl I was two years ago met the girl I am today, she’d walk past the current me, without the slightest idea of recognition.

You changed my ideas about Life and the Future and career completely. I used to see myself studying to be a work-driven, focused, ambitious career woman, but today, all I know about the future is that I want to travel and write and read, with an endless supply of music and you by my side as my only company. “Float” is probably a more appropriate word for what I want to do.

You gave me the opportunities for several out-of-body experiences, each of which has made me a more introspective and deeper person. By introducing yourself  in my life and making me incredibly attached to you, you taught me about sickness of the mind. You showed me the difference between physical relationships backed by emotion and sentiment, and physical involvements based on unfamiliarity and alien-ness.

You thrust me in crowds and then shut me up in solitary confinement, and made me learn to appreciate both situations. You taught me to stop judging myself, and now I don’t judge others, either. You taught me to value and give attention to only things that matter, and let unimportant people and objects and desires slide.

You taught me to take charge of my own life, yet you withheld from me the satisfaction and experience of having certain desires fulfilled, if you thought I wasn’t really ready for them yet. You made sure I learnt to swallow the bitter medicine, only to find out that it works wonders and has me in the pink of health in a matter of hours. You massaged my aching bones and soaked my pain when I needed it, but then walloped me mercilessly when I got complacent or began to drift away from myself.

With your hands holding me steady, I leapt across a chasm, and grew to be a happier person.

Thank you for all that, and more. I will always cherish and appreciate the memories I have of you, if not as the luckiest time of my life, at least as one of the best year of my adolescence.

With love and affection,

Fyy

Addiction

Why are you so addictive?

Why can't I get enough of you, get bored, like I do with other people? It's not like you're something so extraordinary, you're aren't my mind double, you aren't my polar opposite either. In fact we're very similar and yet very different, I can't decide what's more dominant- our parallelisms or our stark polarities?

I need constant approval and compliments but you're too impenetrable to say what you feel.
You can't resist challenges, but I'm already an open book.
Both of us bore easily of people and places, yet we've surprisingly stuck together for a long time.
My favourite pastime is to whine and you can't stop poking fun at me for that.
Both of us hate possessiveness, but strangely enough are fiercely possessive of each other and what's even stranger is that neither of us seem to mind it.
I have major major space issues, yet I can't get enough of you, I can't even conceive the idea of pushing you away.
You're a born genius, I've read my way to ingenuity.
You're too focused on bigger pictures, I'm too preoccupied reveling in the minute to even consider the bigger picture for a half-second.
We're both too egoistic and self-preservative to make the first move, yet things take on a shockingly quick pace with us.
You're experienced, have been there done that for practically everything. Calling me even a novice is an over-estimation.
I'm annoyingly rational, logical and pragmatic, yet there isn't an iota of practicality and realism in what I have with you.
I hate presumptuous, tongue-in-cheek humor, but to you, being cocky is like breathing.
You can't stop cursing and making snide comments about me, yet you spend all day and all night talking to me.
You hate it when people understand, 'get' you and have you 'figured out', but I had you psycho-analysed to the T before letting myself get this attached to you.
Predictability is your worst nightmare, yet I know what you're going to do or say before you have a chance to put it in action.
You hate it when I don't pay attention to what you're saying, yet I've been writing this the whole time while you tell your stupid story.
We both sulk at the smallest of things, but yet can't not talk to each other for longer than like, a day.
You find solace in the comfort of your defences, not realizing that I can see through all of them because they're all of mine, too.

You make me happy. Like really happy. You addictive, addictive man. 

Interlude

Whoever said “Opposites attract” really knew what they were talking about.
You look at me with your grin reaching your eyes and I want to be able to smile like that, as well.
If there’s anyone I could learn about happiness from, it’s you.
You’re capable of seeing the beauty in food, technology, psycho cats, and everything else I’d turn away from.

Yet, as we lay together, our breathing synchronised, I feel this strange connection to you: like I understand where you come from even though I’m never going to be coming from there myself.
Your hand finds mine, and our fingers intertwine. I smile to myself, you smile to me.

The time we shared was perfect, truly.
Nothing can tarnish the memories I have of you.
We walk through the city I call home in comfortable silences, you smoking cigarettes and drinking bubble tea along the way.
We have conversations about Life and Happiness and Darkness, punctuating our sentences with soft, lazy kisses.
We explore each other, body and soul; yet don’t quite have each other.
My mind races, in an attempt to compress and earmark all the mental pictures I clicked into a folder with your name on it.
Now when you’re gone, if I want to remember happiness, I just have to open this folder there it is, plain and simple, happiness as ordered.
Thank you for that.
I may never say it, but I do miss you.

Ain't No Easy Way

Your touch still sits on my face, my neck, my back, my stomach, my arms like an unbearable tingle. I try to smear it away as the tears start rolling down my face, but it's a lost cause.
You've been a part of me.
You've consumed me.
You’ve been one with me.

I try to think back to a time when you weren't in my life.
Before we got together, before we were even friends.
But my memory is hazy.
I didn't even realize how important to me you had gradually become.
And when I did realize, I thought it would be the end of the world, because I wasn't equally important to you.
Turns out I was.

But what happens now?
My life hovers on a knife-edge, it could go either way: butter-side up or butter-side down.
But that's the problem.
You make me either soar or plunge.
With you, I'm either rivalling the stars in their exaltation or competing with the molten lava in the core of the earth for its depth.
I keep telling myself that this can’t really be the way things end between is, that this is just us in…transit and limbo, but with each passing day, all that seems to be just wishful thinking.

The fact of the matter is and remains that I truly love you, am deeply attached to you, and unfortunately for myself, probably will be for a long, long time.

Come

These slings they slung, they've tangled me up,
and I'm strung up, high, and hung;
I'm floating, tied to azure skies,
Peering down from up above.

and I've gone searching for your mirrors
in the tattoos of your name,
in candid nights of silent joy,
in the closets of our sacred shame.

As the moon draws us closer yet,
As the night sky eats the sun,
and the lights come out of hiding,
and our bodies join, as we come as one.

Morning draws us shadows and we fall,
frozen hands cracking on frozen floors,
as our lovers come to take us home,
led astray through alien doors.

Act Appalled

The truth, my sexhay bear, is that you never loved me. The truth, my darling, is that you were too caught up in your own skin to hear the words pouring out of my heart. The truth, my love, is that you wanted the truth for yourself.

And now you have it.

The truth is, my dear, that I do not love you. I never did. I refuse to. The truth is that we will never know the truth in its entirety. The truth, my life my heart, is that we fell out of love the moment we rolled out of bed that first morning we spent together at your house, the moment you called me a friend. The truth, my filthy sexy sexpot, is that the filth of our mouths only shows shades of the filth that lies content in our hearts. The truth, my raunchy vivacious prince, is that when you move inside me, I feel you move throughout me. The truth, my innocent child, is that I am so lost in you, that I wouldn't be able to see an exit through the webs we've spun ourselves inside each other, even if it were clearly marked with red neon signs, and they gave us little path-lights to let us know we're getting closer, that we're standing at the edge of salvation, and all we need is one. tiny. nigh-insignificant. little. shove.

The truth, my dear, is that the salt of our tears has kept us afloat all this time, and I for one am tired of flailing my arms in this puddle we're so adamant is an ocean.

The truth, goddamnit, is that I hate myself for loving you. The truth is that I cannot stop loving you. And I won't stop loving you. So I might as well leave for a while.

I left my heart tied to the front door. You need it more than I.

Two Thousand Stomach Aches

She kissed him on the lips.

In grey tones of early mornings, in those spaces where there was distance, she would look at her, and find him more attractive. He was still everything she wanted. When his sulk bled in his mouth, when his voice cracked in her breath, when his eyes danced in her hips, she found happiness. She still wanted more.

She would call when he would lay besides another, and ask if everything was okay. He gave her assurances, gave her love, gave her a sense of stillness. She took them in her embrace, and named her secrets after stars.

He watched while she wrote. She watched while he swum. With ritual uncertainty, they tangled in corners where neither belonged. When she pulled away, he would escape into the shadows, leaving her with his scent, and the promise of something more yet.

I Want To Love You (But I Know You Don't Want Me To)

The scars on my back tell me stories, just like the bruises on your knees sing to you. In a monstrous moment of passion, we looked at each other in the eyes, and wondered, aloud, how it could get any better than this.

And then we found out that it couldn't. But it could get a lot worse.

Our love is a texture of taboo,

sunk into our hot wounds,

blood coated on your nails,

and tears melting on my face.

Comforting Sounds

He spoke of a memory immersed in sleep, a touch of comfort the length of her hair flowing over his forearm. She whispered "What are you waiting for?" and he simply smiled.

She woke, gathered her clothes, kissed his restless eyes as he slept, and walked out on life as they knew it.

Tomorrow's sunrise is going to be glorious, she thought. That, and everything that will follow.

She woke up, staring blindly into the night. Unable to breathe, she clawed at his scent, and burst into rivulets when she wandered too far away.

Kiss Each Other Clean

Love, I have discovered, is not a matter of chemistry. It is an exercise in touch, sight and sound; your "lover" undressing, his or her panting breath on your shoulder, the mirror images in each other's irises, falling in love to the sound of a man singing, and falling out of it to the wailing of his guitar.

I was happy just to be with you.

Lust Or Liberation

He called it lust. I spelled it liberation. We kissed softly, reminding ourselves of who we belonged to, but remembering that this moment, at least, was ours alone.

We let our clothes tangle on the bed, the floor, and all about us, if only it means that our hearts will fold perfectly when we throb into each other, and share the foul tastes of this world within blinks of the twilight dawn.

When he wakes up, I'll be gone.

At least I have loved him, if only for a night.

At least I'll be able to say, I once lived in spite of who I was, and who I will be forever more.

An Even Sadness

We returned to what we had called our bed, as we had called it ours with our others too. We remember brushing the cobwebs off our decadent bodies, spinning stories into nails, and writing stories with strands of air. You played with my hair as you blew a short tune into my heart; La-la-la-la-la it went. You spoke to me in triads through our nights, but I listened only in pictures and feelings. We should have known that was a sign, but we were blind. We were young. We were content to walk as each other's shadows, hiding in the sun. When contentment turned to insufficiency, we will never know for certain, my dear. But I know, as you know, that when we woke up with our others, we were not surprised. The stars had it read to us as we slept, but without the image and its melody, we did not care to pay attention.

Losing ourselves in each other's eyes was when we lost ourselves to ourselves. Finding ourselves, it turns out, is a frightening trial of faith, a faith neither of us seems to hope to find.

A Hollow Scene

She bit him on the shoulder, where moonlight fought to outshine the pearls in his spine. He arched a smile, feeling the pain turn to pleasure, his eager hands peeling her skin with such tenderness.

Let me love you like a king...

In the quiet love that followed, she grew herself wings of mercury, and rode the winds to her frozen heaven.

Her heart clawed at his throat, as streams burst forth from his heavy lungs.

He switched instruments in the midst of making this strange brand of audible love to her, and she watched, wide-eyed and wondrous, the deep red notes rise into the air as he coaxed the bow across his flesh and bones. There was a radiance to the sound, and a horror she mistook for lust.

Exit Strategy

"We are each other's cocoons, and we are monsters waiting to morph into beautiful, wondrous beings."

"But I don't want to cut through you."

She dug her nails in deep and ripped his skin apart.

The light in her eyes became a lightness in his heart.

She walked into freedom, and gave herself a name.

Midnight All Day

It felt strange when they started falling asleep without making love, not because of the lack of desire but because of the familiarity that was growing.
But then on some nights, she would feel him pressing up against her, feel his breath and his lips on the back her neck, his mouth finding hers.

He could be aloof in bed as he could be in general, focusing on some part of her body to the point of seeming to forget her. But that distance no longer threatens her.

And they say that the less one is capable of sex, the more one is capable of love.

Cause' Life Gets You Like That

Sometimes I look at us, you and me, and I wonder what got us. What got us lonely and sad and hurting in places we didn't know existed and in ways we couldn't define. What took away the belief that he was going to walk up to you with roses in his hands and his heart in his eyes and he was going to be tall, and handsome, with these eyes that would look at you like they were drinking you in, this smile that would just make your heart stumble, these gorgeous strong arms and shoulders that you'd just want to run your fingers over, and that he'd think you were perfect however you were, and he would be intelligent and witty and sharp and intuitive and caring and protective and kind and generous and honest and loyal and faithful and good, just so good that nothing and nobody else would ever stand a chance against him. and all he'd ever want was you and you'd ever want was him, and that was it, you loved and respected and trusted each other and you were each other's world and there was the happy ending we dreamed of.

And then what happened.

How did everything change so drastically, when did we realize it wasn't ever going to be like that, so we'd settle for second, no third, no fourth best, no okay, not any category of best, we'd just settle and keep settling. We'd just take what we got and get on with it, because here was the other part, we discovered there were bigger, tougher issues in life, like how badly your family could fuck you up, how badly other people could fuck you up, how badly you could fuck yourself up, how badly you could fuck someone else up, because everyone perpetuates this cycle of abuse, don't they. How badly you could crash and burn and be reduced to nothing but ashes.

But what the hey, hey, I survived so far and so have you. We're here, we're alive and kicking and sometimes we're tired and often times we give up, but I'll pull you back in and you'll pull me back in and we'll keep going. We'll escape once in a while, once every few years when it gets too much, and we'll go somewhere and do our version of crazy things, which are still everyone else's version of tame things cause that's just how we are, and we'll stay up to watch the sunrise and dance like there's no tomorrow and eat the most delicious food, nothing much will matter. Then we'll come back and we'll struggle on.

But you'll always have me and I'll always have you.

Point Of No Return

Wind in the winter trees, cherry blossoms with no blossoms.
Saturday dusks, blanketed hum drum of crickets, a longing finger along the smooth of skin.
Rain in your city, fog in mine, a hot shower, soap and bubbles floats across bare skins.

You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge,
in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent,
silent . .

On days like this, I’d spend with you in this room.
The faint light through the windows on your face.
You don’t need to cover yourself with a blanket, have my warmth for your use.
I want you to see me, fast asleep
I’d close my eyes, killing all the noise.
You should keep looking.
And we won’t talk.
For hours

I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge -
in your mind you've already succumbed to me
dropped all defences, completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've decided,
decided . . .

We don’t need to talk when you are here in this room
You’d understand everything
I don’t have to say anything
Words would be noise
I’m yours and you are mine
Take from me, give to me
Bite me, kiss me, touch me, push me, breathe into me,
I won’t resist anything.

You have brought me to that moment where words run dry,
to that moment where speech disappears into silence,
silence . .

Days like this, you’ll spend with me in this room
I will be everyone for you who was always absent, always busy, always far away
My fingers will graze every inch of your body
In the dim of the spotlights, our shadows will touch
I’d close my eyes and steady my breath
You should keep looking
I will let you kiss the sound of my heart beat
I want you to see me in love

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why …
In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining
defenceless and silent -
and now I am here with you: no second thoughts, I've decided,
decided..

When you lie next to me, you’ll understand everything
I will let you taste my tears
I will say the words you’ve longed to hear
You will see how broken I have been under it all
How much in pain, how longing,
And I will let you fix me

Past the point of no return
the final threshold -
the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn . . .

Toast & Smoked Salmon

It's a day of lazy thoughts. Of slow smiles and a content heart. The one which has nothing to complain about, no one to point fingers at. The colour is red. Like a red red rose which I never received. I woke up to an empty house, like a quiet mouse. And I am carrying a bit of sleep around with me as I tiptoe through familiar paths of that which cease to exist. It's a day of beautiful poetry, poignant words, heart wrenching images lost in the absurd. And then there is passionate music, breaking all the rules. Only know that you have been high when you are feeling low, only hate the road when you have been missing home. It's the kind of day where you have screamed till the words dried out and now there is nothing left to say, to feel.

Breakfast of toast and smoked salmon. I let the stickiness be washed away with the lukewarm coffee. I let the smokiness disappear as I watched the crumbs fall. Every morning is like the one before and everybody needs someone to adore. I am counting on you, oh oh baby say you will. Oh oh baby, be my thrill.. And smile at the faint beauty I radiate only when I am alone, surrounded by all that I love. I wish you could understand, understand the pain in silent suffering. And the relief, in complicated confessing. Be my youth, my kissing booth, my sweet tooth, my beauty and truth. Be my thrill, if it isn't too much to ask for.

I want to write these words for you. About the lovely time we had, before you left. And I want to feel that blushing embarrassment when you find out that the words is about you. Watch you sit up a little straighter and smile your charming smile at me as you try not to look too pleased with yourself. Watch you ask me if I write for every guy I fall head over heels for, I want to look you in the eye and laugh in mock confirmation. I want to be nonchalant when I say, "Oh yes of course. What do you think, that I wrote these just for you? Are you nuts?"

I love your sad tenderness, when I have hurt you. That's one of the reasons I could never be sorry for our quarrels, and they bothered you so. Those dear, dear little fusses, when I always tried so hard to make you kiss and forget..But I concur, at the thought of you. And my eyes crinkle with the kind of happiness which can only be felt, not shared. It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And I think about how they all look the same, their eyes down, their steps hurried, just waiting for a sunny day while I wait for it to rain.

When I am with you, we (try to) stay up all night,
When you are not here, I can't get to sleep.
Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.

- Rumi 

Truth Or Dare

That moment when I pulled the blanket away from you, and looked you in the eye. Defiant. Stop me if you dare. You smiled. I never took you for a gracious loser. I was impressed. And we both knew that it was never about the blanket.

I wish I was closer. To you. Down the street, to the left. Walking distance or maybe a bus ride away. Because sometimes, a phone call just isn't enough. I wouldn't know what to say, but I would stand by your side anyway. I would hold your hand if I saw you falter in your steps. I would block the way if you tried to crawl into the little black hole at the back of your head. I would get food and unpack it on your sofa. We would eat straight from the boxes as we flip channels in search of something ridiculous to watch. It will all be okay.

And you would chide me when I don't finish my food. But you would do it with a smile. The hours pass and the television is pushed out of our minds as conversation takes shape in bed. Words spill, confessions are made and secrets revealed. The tears will be wiped away by the other. And we would lie there, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet far away. Lost in our own thoughts, embracing the winners of fights we just lost. Remember the time when life was simple? We would both smile. But the darkness would hide it all away.

Shadows play a game of hide and seek over my outstretched feet. Little patterns whispering over the brown skin. The wind can be heard through the rustling of leaves. Angry nudging, doubtful thoughts. Don't make me do what I don't want to. Don't make me regret what I should never have to.

I think of the future whilst you sleep. How our paths might never cross again. I will miss having you being the most important person in my life.You will always be the most important person in my life,

You make me smile, I confess. I know, you whisper back. I might be in love, I hesitate. I know, you smile. But how can I know for sure? We never know anything for sure. And we stare silently at the ceiling as we let the distance creep between us.

Goodnight sexhay bear.