Cleanse

And as I purged myself of you
First went the words
Laced with deception

Then went the touches
That were never meant for me
Slowly disintegrating to dust

The kisses were wiped away
One after another, slowly
Till the lips were non existent

And then went the smiles
Demolished to the ground
Leaving no room for return

But what does one do
About the bloody memories
They leave such ugly stains

Butterflies

She: remember those butterflies I would talk about every time we would meet?
He: yes, I do.
She: they are dead now. 

Light it up

A candle for God's altar 
And a candle for the brave 
A candle for those nights in the dark 
And a candle for your grave.

The end

Fuck love.

Fuck the 10 fingers

That I know better

Than my own skin

Fuck that smell

That runs through my veins

And poisons my blood.

Fuck it all.

Fuck the fact

That you see me for me.

That you burnt the masks

I’d wear, one by one.

That I can’t breathe

When you’re inches away

And how you tease my soul.

Fuck that too. 

Not worth it

I ain't got what she got babe
Not the charm 
Or the mysterious smile 

I ain't got the curves love 
Nor the moves 
To make it worth your while 

In fact I got nothing babe 
But a damaged soul 
That needs a stitch or two 

A kiss to make it better 
Maybe some love
But I ain't getting that from you

Know this

You see, I want only what's inside 
The absolutely dark side 
The part no one really gives a fuck about 
The part that even you would discard 

And if you rip yourself open 
And hand it over 
With all the blood, veins, and the secrets 
I will drink it till my soul is stained 

I will cut away the lies and stories 
Sever the masks of iron 
That you wear so passionately 
Remove it all - layer by layer 

So understand this 
I want nothing of the good 
Just the dark spots, the ugly corners 
To be the star of this miserable tragedy 

Coffee

"Of all the men I've had, the only one I remember is the one who stayed back for coffee, each time," she said to him. "That is sweet," he replied. 

"It was more than sweet. I don't know how to make coffee to save my life, or anyone else's for that matter," she said. 

Carnal

Fuck me. Close your eyes, or don't close your eyes.
In the dark, or in the light.
No one cares. No one's watching.
Our fingers locked, there's no way of
Telling them apart.

But our lips are different.
Yours gentler, smiling, curious.
Mine, just hungry.
And, like a gourmet meal set before me 
I taste you. All of you. 

There are no deadlines, and we have nowhere else to be. 
Therefore darling, tonight, just fuck me. 

Dark love

The funny shadows became the empty pages
She had been looking for a while
As the lamp burnt timidly in the corner
She wrote the verses in her mind

He touched her face and her hair
And she saw him through closed eyes
When their bodies came together
Like a storm on a listless night

He didn't say anything, he didn't have to
She smiled occasionally at his face
And whispered a prayer now and then
And silently begged for him to stay

But he got up and left, every time
Making no promise to return
But come back he did, into her arms
And she wrote poetry again, as they entwined

please

Buy the groceries, and make the dinners

Pay bills on time; collect her from work

Surprise her with a whatever carat ring

Walk by the river, talk about the future

Say something funny; agree with her 

And as swiftly as you do, drink all the wine 

Live with her, smile at her, cry with her

Give her your hopes; give her your dreams

Give her everything that you’d give to me

Call her, text her, or leave her a note

Make exotic plans; have those babies 

Just don’t touch her the way you’d touch me

Amnesia

I thought of the five funny videos

That still remain in my inbox

Watch them, you had said

And I had forgotten.

Tonight, I will for tonight I must

Or else tears will stain the sheets

You aren’t coming home

Because you also forgot.

White lies

What do you want for your birthday

She asked him quietly

You, he said, without much hesitation

It was an obvious lie

She wanted to believe that lie

And she clearly did

It made her illusion a little happier

And she needed it

That lie travelled across the globe

In her little pocket

Across cities, states and nations

Like a secret bodyguard

A few years later, on a winter’s day

His wedding invite came

She had to be there, for his sake, it said

And she would go

Her painted feet touched the floor

And walked gently

Towards the glittering decorations

As she stood before him

It was going to end tonight for sure

Their silly fairy tales

He was checking out for good

From her pretend world

But she was smiling from the heart

Even shook his hands

And the soft hands of the beautiful new ‘her’

Taking home just the lie 

Light up

It’s interesting how

Smoke from a cigarette

Dances to its own tunes

Swaying, twirling and shifting

It’s interesting how 

A little light from the sun

Makes the whole dance

Into one big theatre production

And then you blow

Gently into the centre

And the smoke disappears

Leaving little or no visual trace

But your drapes

And your sheets and pillows

Hold the memory

Of every cigarette ever smoked

Just like love. 

Her. Him.

When she came

She stared at him

And with tears in her eyes

In utter silence

She gave him her heart

When she came

He looked at her tears

Tenderly, with affection

And wondered when

And how he'd hurt her 

Just another day

At some point, the flowers do stop coming

The party and cake orders cease

A moment you thought was special, at some point

Competes for some recognition amidst the regularity

Some people forget, some don’t bother to make that call

The number of thank yous has reduced

Like clockwork, you make coffee, eat toast and egg

And like every single day, clock in silently at nine thirty

Candles are saved for power failures, you believe

And not for silly moments of romance

You know there won’t be strawberries and champagne

When you hurry back home, knackered, at seven

The love is there, somewhere, hidden, you explain

Possibly like the gift you won’t find

It’s in the eyes or in the lines of his unclenched palms

Behind the boredom or embedded in the ageing brain

Be the goddess of the night; give him a new 'you';

The pressure’s been on for a while

You eat more greens, no grains, and retrieve the curves

 You drop sizes, go shopping and even get some makeup

That night, as you rub lotion into your tender, tired, hands

And glance at his hair you love so much

You realise that you want to love and like never before

But now you’ve become the girl no one wants to touch…

man/woman

You’re a woman. Be strong. Life is going to throw many more challenges at you. You have to face them all.

I shiver.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be strong. I want to give in to whatever the hell is going down; it’s could very well be the only way my soul would be purged.  

I don’t want to hold fort all the time. And sometimes, I really cannot. My knees buckle and I can feel the earth crumble beneath my feet.

Sometimes, I do not want to take on the world. I don’t want to read feminist lines that talk about equality of women and empowerment.

I cannot be a feminist. Feminism is differentiation of some sort. I am human. To me, men and women are the same - Both love, laugh, hate, hurt, cry and hide. Social definitions mean nothing to me. I don’t care about straight people or gay people – I care about the line between good and bad and I know that sometimes, a sandstorm can hide that line. People cross over all the time. We are all guilty of something and if we sit on our high horses and start to judge, we’re damned. And it won’t matter whether we are straight or gay bi-curious or asexual.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be a woman at all.

I don’t like the idea of being told, “when you have your periods, it’s god’s way of telling you that you hold the key to giving life.”

I don’t give life to anything. I only facilitate the entrance. And I don’t want to bleed to prove that. 

I don’t want to be the woman who’s patted on the back for her bravery because people almost didn’t expect her to make it through to the next level. 

I don’t want to be told how fortunate I am to have found someone who cares. Sometimes, I would like that to be said about me.

I wonder how many people would have told my husband that: you’re one lucky bastard to have her. 

None of my exes, I am certain. 

In my weakest moments – when I can barely walk or lift a hand to push hair away from my face, I have someone doing it for me. Someone helps me get off the bed and put on my clothes, takes me to work and waits to bring me back. I have been fed, hugged, comforted, tickled and entertained when all I wanted to do was crawl under the bed and possibly, perish.

And that someone is not a woman.

I am proud that I am alive and healthy enough to earn a living. I am also proud that I am human. But honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about being a woman. I think this whole gender thing is way too overrated.

I do

He’d given her a smooth pebble

It was black, no, dark blue

And always cold

And oddly, comforting 

One day she took that pebble

And hit it against her head

And again

And again

Again

Till blood oozed out of her forehead

And a tiny river was born

Finally, they were married.

Love

Lover

Your taste

Is like coffee

On a rainy night

Darling

Your memory

Is like salt

That rims the eyes

Sweetheart

Your song

Is like cinnamon

It sweetens the lips

My love

Your name

Is like white smoke

That gently disappears

Unnamed #5

How is it that I wait for a date that doesn’t exist anymore?

Why is it that I remember it right from the beginning?

Why do I remember where we sat and what you said?

Is it because you never really let me forget?

Why is it that I have to explain myself everywhere,

But the one place, where I never have to, shut down?

How come you’re not willing to cross this excruciating distance?

Is it because gratitude fastens its claws around your wrists?

Or is it because, deep within, all I have become is just a happy memory?

Unnamed #3

Do you remember the fragrance from the Frangipani behind our room

Told us stories of different lands that we all knew never existed?

Remember how we sneaked in dried nuts and put them under our pillows

To be strictly had, in the dark, during those insane story telling sessions?

I remember them like I would a favourite jigsaw puzzle from those days

Pieces you know will eventually come together but not right away

I remember some songs, some funny games, and fights we had over nothing

And how it all ended without a warning and vanished behind the doors

Occasionally, I would read these novels that had the two of us in the middle

They were us, with different faces, different names and different stories

But I would ride through the story like a desperate and wounded horse

That had to reach before it fell on an unknown plot and bled to death

Your best friend left the country and you cried because she didn’t ask you once

My lover walked out and I burnt all his letters that we knew were seriously lacking

Under my bed, rotted a stuffed bear that my second lover gave for a birthday

You poked fun at me, called me a child and ran out of the room with your pigtails

You make me smile even without intention and from that overwhelming distance

You and I no longer ask, call, speak, wish, love, hate, cry, laugh, smile or argue

Lives were parted, with a wide-toothed comb, possibly to untangle the rough edges

Causing deep lines, differences, lack of interest and general disregard for each other

We turn defiant, annoyed, and annoying, and let our egos take over as puppeteers

You walk in the snow, hurt your neck, shiver in the cold, go months without money

I burn in the sun, hurt my neck, reel under the heat and go months without money

It’s ironic, isn’t it, how in a way we live identical lives without even asking for it?