You and Me – Ache – Two Poems


Jaal (Trap)

what once was entwined
is now entangled
masks shed
knots
cracks
bared
love is many a splendorous thing

*

Pain

The streets of love are in another town
here there is just stillness of dark dusty dismal blue
and the same lack in noise that lives
in the darkness of the graves

Monday Memories – 14 – You and I – Absence


rambling thoughts

rolling

like a pebbles

directionless

homeless

gathering dust

gathering memories

now stuck between

a rock

and hard place

it is raining incessantly

It had to pour

Something has shifted

since the time silence

fell upon us like a sword

so cold, so sharp one could cut oneself on it

A silence

that has rendered

me invisible

and

in this chaos of sadness

memories have turned green

under the

the empty aching blue

of your absence

and my heart

from this great distance

watches helplessly

nostalgia was supposed to be about

moments shared

memories created

laughter, kisses

endless conversations

songs hummed together

in different continents

pictures, poems, stories

waking up in each others arms

being silly

arguments. lovers quarrels

even silences

and

make up sex ( in whatever way it was possible)

Never Ever in my wildest moment

I believed

It would be

YOU

personified

I existed at two places

here

and

where you are

with miles and miles

of ocean between us

I drew you into my world –

 real  and imagined

painted pictures in words

but didn’t know where to draw a line

there are times even now

when I can’t decide

which one of us is missing

I don’t know which pain is

more excruciating,

the shock of what happened

or the ache of what never will be

I know it is over

as simply as it began (and I am trying to convince myself even now that THIS is a mirage not THAT )

THAT which is real

in my heart

throbbing

pulsating

a wound

which is

as much yours

as

mine

(Ah! the joy of pain we so willingly endure)

there are many words

you left unsaid

many questions

 you never asked

(maybe they were things you were afraid to know)

and many went unanswered

in your hesitation

I found all my answers (so I believed)

each of us

for all our lives

live

so bitterly

misunderstood

I listened to the friction within you

of wanting and not wanting

missing and yet not connecting

I heard it all

but my heart

it deliberately chose

selective hearing

and imagined a glimmer of hope

in the slithers of sun

that warmed like  love

and tickled me in glimpses

 between the veiled Autumnal shadows

that loomed large

closing in from all sides

nothing haunts us like the things

we never say

(sometimes also those which we so carelessly say)

I would not have left you

on that September afternoon

had I known it would be our last

 the regret pains my heart

now among other things

I dream of lost vocabularies

that may express what we no longer can

but even tough the words have turned stranger

it is alright

for I know

what we are

and what

we could not be

there wasn’t a  closure

No goodbyes

and I hope (there is still a hope)

that one day

when you  make an inventory of lost things

you will find me and remember

what I meant to you

till then

I will do what I do best

move in the rhythm

with your ebb and flow

All of  You and Me   

I collect your whispers and arranged them in tight sentences (lest they flee) try to make sense of it. In your absence sadness of things speaks for you. Your abject indifference has seeped in and taken shape of everything around me. Words have long since turned strangers. The cell phone has turned into a paper weight. No, if you think I am saying all this because I miss you you are wrong. One doesn’t miss oneself but gutters too have limits when the sky pours it’s rain .

Monday Memories 12 – You And Me


Some things are forbidden and yet we indulge.  We want to create memories.  Memories are not always made of  what happened it reality. They are also make beliefs. Things we imagined , dreamed , yearned for and with such intensity that they began to  seem more real than reality. It happens with dreamers, story tellers , poets , lovers  and people who aren’t too full of themselves. You need space to let these memories to take birth and grow. You have to endure the pain, the discomfort, the ecstasy and the constant reminder that they are not fragile and ephemeral as reality. They are amaranthine . They are powers of darkness and when these imagined memories collide with the real ones they become vehicles of destruction. It is a hypnotic drone and blur which makes nights sleepless and turns the days into a perpetual black hole.

I am entangled in those memories of you. Both real and imagined.  When people withdraw or leave they leave a gaping hole. Different people fill it with different things unable to remember what initially existed before in its place. I filled and glamorized  it with memories of time we spent together, with pain and self-pity, with tears and hurts. I called it solace, peace, solitude but it was nothing of those. It was just noise. Cacophony.  And then one day the tears dried. Just like that but pain remained. The hole remained. Gaping at me more than ever before and to make things worse It had taken a shape of you.

I was unmistakably going through lots of pain when I met you. You assured me it will go away. I had apprehensions. I had heard these words before but despite my apprehensions I believed you.   I waited. Patiently.  Days, Weeks, Months, Years. The vanilla flavor has long gone but the taste is stuck in my palate,  I am trying to wean myself off you. It is a long painful process of disengaging cell by cell, pore by pore, nerve by nerve. Sometimes I pull a wrong nerve and the scream shoots inwardly at a deafening speed leaving me convulsing with pain.

When you hand over your splintered heart to an absolute stranger you take a big risk. You are prepared for what it holds. You know if it all fails the memories of it will shred you but you still go for the forbidden.

Indifference is opposite of love , not hate and there is nothing I can fill these silences with other than memories. Nostalgia holds a lot of importance in our lives. Memories can also make you muddle-headed at times like they did to me today. They can make your adrenaline rush and bring with it bouts of immaturity and catastrophes that leave you feeling even more miserable than before. It makes you impulsive and everything done on an impulse is not good. It can go so terribly wrong that it can startle you.

I was thinking I had lost you but nothing is really lost to us as long as we remember it and today as I think of you memories are bringing me the whiffs of smells of places  that I did not pay attention to, that I didn’t really think existed. It is bringing to me songs that take me back to a  moment in time like nothing else can even if its bony fingers, sharp nails and pointed elbows hurt me no end. It is worth all the pokes and jabs and scratches.  Whatever is left unsaid , undone can be added to a memory and turned into a dream to savor till it too becomes a memory. New things take its place and the cycle continues of dreams and memories and all that it is between that. In these flickering images i find the warmth you forgot to take with you when you left.

Love Hurts. You And Me 

(song shared from You Tube. )

You and I – Unrequited Love


Days and nights have suddenly turned cold in the middle of summer. Cold and Hard like last year’s loaf of bread. I slice them with blunt knives and chew on them without appetite.  Indifferent messages do little to bridge the aching distance or break the deafening  silence that has occupied every fiber of life nor does an occasional assemble of  affectionate words give any comfort. Even though the heart longs, it knows it will never get more than that.

I wonder if this pitiless indifference is subterfuge for hiding the torments of love or it is  the opposite of love. Love has denied rest to my soul and slumber to my eyes. I have begun to dread the approaching night. It deepens the loneliness and hurt as I stare into the vast emptiness of the dark sky. A lonesome moon sometimes glides past the window and lying on my bed, fatigued by days of sleeplessness, I watch it disappear from sight.

Words that I wrote for you float like pipe dreams, adding fuel to the slow fire consuming me from within. It is funny how presence makes itself felt more poignant through absence. Stray memories come to haunt , it is amazing how darkness brings things to life, gives them a form, a voice.

I lie as still as possible , least I disturb your silence and it moves away just as you have. I don’t even dare to breathe.

Mind is a fucking manipulating control freak and in those moments of vulnerability , it leaves no chance to whiplash.

There is no feeling worse than knowing you weren’t worthy of truth, of love, of sharing, of  togetherness, of complete oneness, not even an incomplete one. Unrequited love curls itself in some secret crevice , wounded and bleeding. It doesn’t die.

There is always a part of me that hopes for more, and so there is a part of me that is always a fool. Love does that.

Am facing a silence so cold, so sharp you could cut yourself on it.  There is nothing so hurtful, nothing so bare and forlorn as the silence that falls like swords on two people who no longer know what to say to one another, and it is the kind of silence that tells you that you are no longer of any importance to that person, who really is no longer even there; it is a silence that renders you invisible.

It has rendered me invisible. Some days ago I wrote , sometimes one knows one’s place – outside the periphery.. The words come out so powerfully now. It is all good to talk of giving space etc, of trust and understanding and being comfortable even in silence of a loved one but this is not that silence.. this is a silence that cripples.

It’s a marvel that even with such agony the longing doesn’t diminish , it continues to feed on the loneliness and gain strength. It grows stronger , so does love- even the unrequited one, for it has its own rainbows.

“Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.”-Sarah Cross

but the other part holds true too. We are creatures of desire and desire needs to be respected.

Love needs to be fed. Nurtured. Nourished. It needs to be deeply felt.

It needs to be reciprocated.  Replenished.

It needs to be expressed. In actions as well as words

Especially when words are the only medium.

Unrequited love is an orphan of silence.

Abandoned to fend for itself  during the endless days and never-ending nights.

Read all YOU AND ME  posts here