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It was a warm morning
that smelled of mildew
interspersed with the
fragrance of flowers, few

You felt familiar
fingers intertwined
That steady pulse,
your hand in mine

The sunlight reflected
in those pools of brown
Our shallow breathing;
the only sound

Those mornings now
haunt me, teasingly
As I mull over the futility
of something, that could never be


I have it all

I am, who I’ve desired to be

Yet, it all, somehow

Feels strangely empty


Vacant glances

Reflecting nothing

Resounding echoes

Flying, with broken wings



Write me letters
That smell of you
Words splattered
With early morning dew
Raw thoughts
Thrown around
As you pour your heart
I hear their sound
Tease me with a
Long silence
Building anticipation
A wait, taut, tense
Let me get consumed
By the spaces in between
The lines you’ve written
And those I’ve seen
Beg me not
To see your face
To feel your presence
Or cover this space
For if we met
It would only lead
To bitter disappointment
Caused by the greed
I am sharing you
With the grey skies, overcast
The sound of thunder
The drizzles that last
I am sharing you 
With the people on the streets
The bowed heads
The shuffling feet
I am sharing you 
With their devouring eyes
The truth in their depths
The barely disguised lies
I have to let go, the end is near
It’s not that I never, held you dear
It was perhaps love, I did care
I just have never, learnt to share

Space, an infinite expanse
Stretching endlessly
You and me
Yet, there is so much
That we still share
The light from the moon
The stars at which we patiently stare
The same bittersweet
Binding us
In time, they freeze
I fervently hope, tomorrow
The warmth does not
Melt the frozen moments, timeless
Washing away all that we’ve got

The wind that blows

Carries your scent

As towards me it flows

Grazing the flowers bent

Your fragrance distinct

Despite their presence

Stirring my instinct

With your marked essence

It is enough for me

To know of your existence

All I need to see

Is your fleeting luminescence

I crave no more

Than the touch of your shadow

As you walk to the shore

When the sun dips low

It was a cold winter morning but the scenery fortunately resembled the falling grace of autumn. The lake had frozen over but a thin layer, manipulated by the sun, allowed a liquid glaze to rest calmly on top. The effect was marvelous; it felt like you could pierce the ice with a dive requiring just enough effort to make the cold water feel like falling on a comfortably humid cloud. They sat there next to each other on a wooden bench which had conducted their warmth to each other with great efficiency. The woman looked out across the lake as if she was trying to contemplate how many times she could have swam across it in these long years. The man watched her with great calm even though he knew that he had turned a quick glance into a noticeable stare. He couldn’t help it. He was compelled to search her face for a sign, any sign, that he could use as an affirmation for his already built hypotheses. He wanted the questions in his head to be muffled by answers, wrong as they might be. He wanted her to lie, he wanted her eyes to assure him that he was wrong, her sardonic smile to indulgently tell him his mind was playing dirty tricks on him and that his worst fears would not and could not be realized. Her face remained impassive. The wind rustled the leaves and made a sound that resembled a muted background score of an epic film heard by the audience just getting settled into their seats next door. That sound unfortunately wasn’t enough to quiet the overwhelming questions his skewed sense of reasoning was posing to him.


The moment felt like a millennia but it didn’t make up for its insignificance in the time of man. The lake had betrayed it by reflecting enough heat to make the woman feel it on her neck and then attribute it to the stare of the man. The flurry of disappointment that flooded the man could only be described by a painter working with a fidgeting muse. This wasn’t the expression he was looking for. He had conjured a picture from his deep set ideas, dumping all his hopes where they would inevitably be shattered, and he had to now face the repercussions of living in a comfortable bubble that he knew would be the tool for his destruction. It showed on his face, the woman caught it quicker than she could interpret it and her confusion showed on her face. She sensed he was expecting something, and had she the faintest idea of what it was, she would have been more than eager to comply promptly to his wishes. Though she was as clueless as she had always been when it came to this man. There was something about him that wanted her to live up to his expectations, something that always urged her to prove in some way that she was worthwhile. And for some strange reason, she knew she had never really been able to do so. It took a strong conscious effort for both of them to reconstruct their normal expressions. The man stumbled in his effort and that failure was also caught by her in a fraction of the time it took for her to look back at the lake. He could not look at her anymore, he tried gazing at the lake but her reflection had decorated it so he dived into his thoughts. He had seen it clearly, and the realization seemed to have left him numb. He wanted to feel angry, to react to the raging emotions he ought to be feeling, to be incited into saying what he knew he’d regret later, but he couldn’t. He had seen it coming. He had prepared for it. Some part of him, and he didn’t know how dominant that part was, had even hoped for it. He was through with all the delusions, with her lies, with her pretences. For good.


It had gotten very quiet as if the wind had stopped to listen. She could hear his breathing losing its frequency and growing louder. This time, she knew he had reached a definitive conclusion and that whatever she said was not going to help her cause. She would just be giving him more reasons to be more concrete and rigid in his assessment. She was tired of all these mind games. She wondered if she had made a mistake by choosing this path, and forsaking the one where things would have been a lot more different, a lot more simpler. She wanted to beg him to revoke his judgment, to give her the reasons for the icy expression she had witnessed, but she knew she wouldn’t. Pride was a funny thing. He had gone right ahead and misconstrued her actions as they suited his whims, and she wasn’t about to plead for mercy. All she regretted was the complete lack of communication. If only he had asked her before drawing inferences which he seemed to be rigid about. If only he would have given her a chance.


“You could’ve just asked.”


“I know.”


He didn’t say that to agree with her statement, he was referring to things he knew without having to ask.


-This was a form of creative stimulation my friend Krishna and I happened to indulge in.  A major chunk of this has been written by him. I have merely added a few details to complete the picture, and yet leave it incomplete.

Because there is
A beauty in tragedy
A poignant tune
For the unsung melody

The sorrow becomes worthwhile
I wade through that extra mile

Because there is
Suppressed pain
Belied by the smile
Damming the rain

I fake it for their benefit
Feigning the ways that they see fit

Because there are
Wishful dreams
In spite of
The splitting seams

I tenaciously hold the tenuous thread
Interlacing fancies to the reality I dread

Because there is
That haunting mirage
Letting my spirit
Loose at large

I survive the despair that comes along
Tranquilizing the affliction, overlooking the wrong.

Wished I had stopped you

Should’ve begged you to stay

My pride held me back

Though I had so much to say


If only I had

Swallowed my ego

Let the words rush

Held on, not let go


What if I had pleaded

Gone down on my knees

Would you have looked back then?

Moved by my pleas?


If I’d allow you to

Walk all over me

Would the hurt deep within

You then clearly see?


Would it then be worth it

To cling on to you

Or an invitation

To let you what you please do?


My pride will keep me

The company that I need

Walk away if you may

While I silently bleed





When the ones you trust
Are feeding you lies

With every broken promise
Your heart silently cries

When castles you build
Come crumbling down

When you wish to scream
But can make no sound

When every foundation
Reeks of ulterior motives

When the pain belied by your smile
No one seems to notice

When those you count on
Become opportunistic

When seeking for answers
You find only evasions cryptic

When what you thought you had
Slips away from your fingers

When you try too hard
To make traces of joy linger

When you feel so cold
You even cling to pain

When you crave emotions
To make sure you are sane

When numbness engulfs you
Draining you of sensations

When every new wound
Is deeper than existing lacerations

In this world of make believe
Where nothing is true
When alone
Who do you turn to?

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