Whispers To The Oblivion ...

Naked, onto the virgin's bed, She said,  "You look beautiful" And I conformed, shy, Of the loving, or the praise And flinched in a moment Pulling away, almost like a temptress Only to draw her closer My lover took me, held in the hazel brown hypnotism of her eyes And then flicked through my mind, the toddler me on the terrace that night Every night, In love with the solitary star heavenward.                  ~Forever. (I wish)

Drizzles on my window sill And maladies of disbelief, The heart still shrieks of scorching pain The soul, sighs relief.

The selfish clock tocks in it's own quest But why should time, for me, rest? Steeled body and a soul inert While the world conspires to shatter the heart The sorrow brims up like poison in my veins Oh life, let loose, let loose,  your wanton reins.

I saw The burden of a dragon fly Lift its wings in air In sheer elation of despair The burden of dragon fly Of ruby sunsets through flecks of leaves In sheer elation of despair Silhouettes of blurry words against the corpse of a silent city Of ruby sunsets through flecks of leaves I saw his eyes shimmer diamonds Silhouettes of blurry words against the corpse of a silent city Slipped into our blind tunnels of memory I saw his eyes shimmer diamonds Then in a tide came those words Slipped into our blind tunnels of memory And sprouted in rubbles of hope Our phoenix love...

He always thought that she was beautiful because she curated memories- the happy alongside the sad , by scribbling pieces of doggerels on  the walls of her room, by putting up pictures with fascinating captions over the cupboard, by preserving wishes in cards, poems on leaves, notes of admiration, doodles her friends had sketched and every piece of souvenir she could ever collect from the past. The day he walked  into her two bedroom apartment on one corner of the block, he discovered this insane effort. With dinner plate eyes, he saw that she had, with immense passion (and patience), decorated the walls, the shabby ceilings, the blackened window panes and even the wooden base of the couch. As if, she could not, for one moment, not keep away from reminiscences. Like it was the only permanence amidst the unephemeral inconsistencies of life. The only solid rock in the depth of her oceans. There was not an inch of her house ignorantly left naked, unadorned with art. From excerp...

As I look through the black and white scriptures smudged with gibberish, I want to strongly recall when have I been sitting here before smothering dusky sunlight by the window on this bed. I know some other time too I was looking at my fingernails appearing yellow in the twilight- pale and bland like my life! I know there was another time in the past I was here, immersed in these feelings realising I was trapped in between reality and desires. When was it that this fear had originated- the one I feel simmering like a dirty brown broth, slowly pulling each of my entrails into destruction. It was a time I know, but can't remember. I wonder if it was long long ago that you had left me and this time was only a recurrence of the inevitable- past mingled into present. I wonder; my heart races through the night. I wonder and I can't stop...

It's only in these wee hours of the night,when the city rests. It's only when the nights are so horrifying that I can no more convince myself to persevere. I am a happy woman otherwise. It's rare that you don't  find me break out into fits of laughter at mundane jokes and grope my aching belly soon after I am like that great fig tree with the vibrant aura of victory against autumn. So fresh and lively. The tree who has submitted her life to the virtue of kindness.That who apparently knows of nothing but joy. It's baffling how never ever could a living being fathom what demons she hides between layers of skin that accumulate to harden into the bark over the years of struggle between life and death. The tree that has faced all the winds slash through her soul up till this moment. But the thought of storms scare her now. She is all but happy. A plethora of melancholic clouds have drenched her to the skin over time. You say,  "Too bad. Sorrow will dilapidate he...