Happy Old Year

There's nothing new about a New Year

Same messages, different number

Same resolutions to be broken later

Different settings on New Year's Eve

Same condition in which you'll leave

The year has gone, it's throwback time

To what you did with yours & I with mine

Did plans, resolutions & reality align

Different people, different friends

But it's the same. Every year ends.

It's not about the future at all

The turn of the year is nostalgia's call

To think of the past while you're enthralled

By the shining light of an unknown tomorrow

Your mind looks back on joys & sorrows

There's no other time for you to turn back

Once 1st Jan begins, you'll be back on track

Not that you don't want to, it's time you'll lack

So 31st at midnight, you look up to the sky

And think back to the year that went by

As cheers of Happy New Year ring out

It's a toast to all you thought about

A salute to the old, without a doubt

Because you would not be where you are now

Without the 365 you lived through somehow.

Inked

You'll be safe here
A memory. And a reminder.
Pencil fades, ink washes off paper
Ballpens... Seem to go on forever...

But soon we'll run out of ink
Papers will wear out, will rip
But you'll be safe, I know this
Because I can make your memory stick

I can't trust pen & paper to keep you safe
For years I tried, but always failed
Memories inevitably fade away
So I'll keep you safe in my own way.

This won't wash off, this will stay

Losing you now would mean
Ripping part of my skin away.

Last Dance

Save the last dance for me
The one where the band
Recycles all the old beats
The one you'll debate sitting out
The night is almost over, you admit defeat
Lose that argument
Get off your seat
Because you're dancing that one with me.
That waltz where the floor's almost empty
Where by now, it's only alcohol, not energy
And it will be just you & me
And a dance we'll share for eternity.
Not the first, with the awkward moves
Nor later, the beats pulsing through the room
We'll wait for it, there's no hurry
As long as you promise to dance with me.
We'll hum quietly along to the tune they play
A mellow, sepia end to the day
It won't matter who you danced with in between
The last one, you will reserve for me.
So at the end of the day, at the end of it all
I know it will be me you'll call
Together, you & I, we'll fall
Into a rhythm that will play on
And it will happen so naturally
I'll hold you & you'll hold me
Nobody, nothing else left to see
Because you're dancing your last dance
With me.

Why Didn't You Call?

"You know the bald dude? Gandhi? Father of our Nation and whatnot..."
She looked at him, upside down, sitting in the sky next to her, as he sniggered and nodded "Yeah, the bald dude..."
She ignored him "Yeah, him. Did you know he tried all the shit they warn us away from? He ate meat, drank and all, had women, and bro... BRO! He and a friend tried suicide once, too!"
She sat upright, in her excitement, looking at him through the haze and the hair falling into her eyes. He seemed to be tripping on something else completely.
"Hello?"
His eyes snapped back to her, looking at her silently for a second. "They should teach us that shit in schools and all. They teach us that we should be perfect like these people. Discipline, dedication, perseverance, blah, blah... We're programmed to fail and hate ourselves for it."
She stared at his face for a minute, trying to quell the rising urge to tell him things she shouldn't be telling him at all. Her brain wasn't as sharp as it should be, the haze was making it hard to think straight. She shook the cobwebs out, slightly and pulled the easy grimace back to her face. "You're just scared. Not like you haven't taken a chance na..."
He shook his head at her "That's not what I'm saying. Failing is not an option. You can't try and not succeed otherwise the bald dude will be disappointed."
She flopped onto her back, looking at the dim ceiling. "But we know he wasn't a saint. So we're good na? We know the inside story."
She blinked at a sudden shadow over her face "Why're you blocking my light, bro?"
"Move off, shorty, your tiny legs can handle sitting on the ground now. I'm getting cramped."
She squawked as he tipped her off the bed and took her place "You just shook the buzz out of me, you idiot!"
He sniggered at her, enjoying the indignation on her face.


I never expected to be standing here. I'm not sure if not knowing was a good thing or a bad one. I knew myself enough to know that if I'd known it was coming, I would have avoided it like everything else I avoided. One little lie, one quick exit and another evening alone.
Sometimes being alone was a good break, although the social side of me rebelled against it with everything she had. Sometimes I worried that there were too many conflicting parts of me and some day they would pull me into different halves. Today, I stood there, wondering whether I would've canned in this case too. There was more than people and society at stake here... And my brain was too occupied with flashbacks and other disturbing creatures. That night stood out... That was the last time we had chilled like that before life came along and made me this recluse & took him all over the country for things that caught his fancy. He'd made so many points that night which stuck with me, that my aim of staying away from him was basically moot. I ran as far from him as I could, but always ended up returning to that night. I ran through all life's failures keeping that night & its hazy life lessons in mind.
Now, as I snapped between past and present, I couldn't believe where I stood. His six foot something frame used to tower over me, and he took particular pleasure in leaning on his 'minuscule table'...
My mind couldn't imagine how that frame had let him fly like they said he had. How had one measly fitting taken the weight of his height?
How could all that laughter, all that intellect, all that sheer life have been reduced to this? One urn, a handful of dust, and empty space...


Thinking back, if they'd told me that they were bringing me here, I would have made the same old excuses and stayed in my corner. Because in my corner, there was no murderous fan, no tightening curtain, no empty spaces. In my mind, there was that night, and the one moment I let slip. There was a scared girl telling her oldest friend how she felt, and not one with a hollow space echoing with the fateful "What if".

Aaji's Fridge

We're all a bunch of nomads
We don't have roots, we have a family tree
4 daughters, 8 grand-daughters & assorted family
Who all set out to travel as far as could be
Festivals were different wherever we would be
Even the hours moved very differently
Days passed by at different speeds
Reunions became distant dreams
But there's one place we gathered at
One place that remained
Aunts, cousins, husbands cats
One place to which we came

Open the door and take a look
You'll spot all parts of the globe
Work, travel, business & fun
Snapshots from wherever we'd go
Spices sourced from Italy
Saffron straight from Spain
Chocolates from Duty Free
And achaar always remained
We never met all at once
What with work, life, college, kids...
But we still connected somehow
In the interiors of my Aaji's fridge

No matter who, or where they were
We brought back lovely things to eat
Because we knew, once safely stored
They'd be the way the family meets
That fridge is a symbol of the family
Each taste different, each choice unique
Each ready to partake cheerfully
Of the complete insanity

There was always something for you there 

Whoever you were, there would be

Something special just for you 

Included in the mix carefully 

You knew, whenever you rummaged through

You were where you had a right to be

It wasn't just another fridge

It was a tribute to family

I don't know where that fridge will go now
Nor does the machine matter to me
I only wish, somewhere, somehow
We find another excuse to meet
How else will we share the love
What else could we use to bridge
Time zones, people, countries without
The central point of Aaji's fridge?
Where will home-made bhaaji meet
The sinful chocolate of the Swiss
Where else will the fancy Cheese
Meet gharcha loncha in total peace?
Our melting pot is unhooked now
The shelves morose & empty
We'll find another, there's no doubt
And on those shelves, again we'll meet
But the central point will always be
The shelves of my Aaji's fridge
Where we returned religiously
Despite work, life, college or kids.

Sepia

She could close her eyes and it was all right there in HD.
His voice took her back to days she had wished would never end.
The tree with those trailing tendrils in one corner, the cats running in and out of view, the uneven feel of the stone seating. She could feel herself back in those magical moments as sunshine faded to cool poetry. It was like they were back there, meeting awkwardly for the second or third time, and she could see the clear browns of his eyes.
The breezes kicked up as she heard him telling her about his night. He ran his hand through his hair, unconsciously, maybe, as he relived his memory. She saw him close his eyes and touch his forehead with three fingers as he spoke of the emotion that had taken his by surprise.
The lights came on, then, and shadows flew around the space they shared... His voice fluctuated from laden with memory to brisk and practical. His surprise laughs were like stray winds that rushed to catch up with the breeze that had passed by. His clear eyes has a disconcerting habit of looking at her, and then sprinting around, wanting to catch as much as they could, finding more stories to tell, more hearts to touch... Till Silence began descending, slowly, softly, and she knew it was nearing the end of her flash to sepia. He began to fade, concluding their conversation much before she was ready to let it go.
She frantically tried to go back; she closed her eyes, fervently hoping that this was a dream, and that in reality, there were really back there, talking about coding and social media. She wanted another chance to meet him for the first time, the second time, the 50th time... Not like this, not virtually. Work was virtual, this was life, this was poetry, this was potent...
And it deserved more than a WhatsApp voicenote in return.

Space & Time

Millions of hearts flew to Pluto today
A journey of 9 years covered in a moment.
What better way to avoid Heartbreak?
They'll be far away when things end.
It's far enough away to keep them safe
So many Clark Kents to populate
Hopefully they'll return one day
Super-hearts that just love and never break
For now, there's a sinking emptiness
A feeling of approaching doom
I can see my world coming to an end
I can feel the pull away from you
The room stretches and morphs around us
The few feet are now so much more
Memories don't fade, your voice echoes
My heart's better off sent to Pluto

Aashna Iyer Performs - "Pulse"

Still not great, but it's about time that my homage to my city find its place here.

Because the thump-thump-thump in my veins is the pulse that runs in the veins of the city.

One Second, Three Haikus

1.
As time stops tonight
And the world tries to catch up
Heartache lasts longer

2.
Everything halts
Two hands hesitate in place
And the clock ticks on

3.
She moves on ahead
Seemingly unaffected
Midnight hour rings

Aashna Iyer - The Last Supper - Airplane Poetry Movement

Echoes

My cigarette in my hand, I walked along as my feet slowly led me into a progressively darker side of town. Common sense told me to go back.
This was uncomfortable. This was too familiar. There were too many memories teeming in my thoughts. The cigarette that had been keeping me calm was now all gone, so I was walking towards a bad dream without backup.
"You never walk into a potential danger zone without backup."
I knew the voice was inside my head, but I stiffened nonetheless.

He and I had been near inseparable since a gang-brawl in the academy had brought is together. We weren't just batch mates any more, we were brothers. Rather, had been...
"Should listen to him. You know he's never wrong..." all my ghosts were awake again.
"Walk on, now that you're here." My own voice surprised me. I hadn't expected it at this time and place. It broke the pervading stillness of what seemed to be a flashback, if it weren't for the stabbing pain reminding me that there was no going back. I justified things by saying it was time for answers and I needed a confession, at best, but I had my service revolver against my hip, which was telling me different stories.
I disgusted myself.
Like a puppet on a string, my feet led me towards a building I had vowed never to look at again. I knew beyond a doubt, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this now...
She opened the door as unfazed as she had always been. I could have sworn she smiled at me for a split second before "Why?"
"It's time, don't you think?" I was a lot calmer than I had thought I would be.
I strolled into the room, instinctively avoiding the same mess, walking to the same place, picking up a cigarette (was it the same?) and turning to her for a light.
She had closed the door and was ready.
This was habit for the both of us. We were each playing a part.
"How're you doing, Darling?"
Her sneer was invisible, but clearly audible. I didn't answer. She didn't expect it.
I looked around, confirming nothing had changed. Nothing had.
"Haven't you replaced him yet?" I wasn't playing with gloves on.
She deserved none of that.
Her eyes snapped with irritation as she looked at me, wondering, I'm sure, why the bug was here again.
"I don't need to have someone around..."
"That's right," I broke in, "Because the inheritance was enough to let you retire..."
She slammed her hand down on the table, trying for one last stab at innocence... "I didn't know..."
I stood up, the strain of being in his space, seeing his things, and seeing her here a little too much to handle. "Sure you didn't. You also didn't cry on his shoulder, you didn't pretend to be afraid about 'what would happen', you didn't know he had a will..."
She threw her lighter against a wall, all bets were now off...
"Yes, darling, I know nothing. I don't know why you're here. I don't know that you're scared to be here. I don't know how much this is affecting you..."
She was walking towards me, backing me against a wall... "I don't know why you're backing away..."
I could smell the smoke on her breath, smell my brother's perfume on her body.
I closed my eyes and saw the look in his eyes as she had stepped away, leaving the bullet a clear path to his heart.
It didn't matter what the bullet did, she had killed him before it could touch him.
She nuzzled my neck, slowly working her way to my lips.
"Open your eyes, darling..." I could hear the mockery in the voice of the woman who set my brother up to die.
The woman who knew he had left his money to "My daughter, because we're all she has and who knows how long two cops will live?"
The woman who had made sure that I was wound around her little finger, who told me she loved me. She had been the distraction, the reason I hadn't been his backup.
"Remember this? We had been here that day, remember?" Her voice was laughing at me now, enjoying the freedom of not pretending.
"He walked into it for his little girl... Daddy, they're hurting me... Daddy I'm scared... All it took. He tried to call... But he couldn't wait for ever... His little girl, after all."
She turned away, whipping her hair in my face, laughing... "Never walk into a danger zone alone... Oops! Looks like he forgot..."
I had followed her that day, after she left me, something had been nagging at me...
And I had seen her run into my brother's arms, seen the man get into position, seen her step away... And out of the way, as my brother fell under fire he could never have avoided.
She was still laughing.
She never stopped laughing.
When my bullet entered her chest, it all ended, mid laugh... An endless laugh that would never stop echoing.

Dance With Me

I braided my hair with precision I had learnt from insistent school teachers.

The cool night breeze stopped momentarily as the bus paused to let people off. I looked at the face next to mine, outlined against the streetlights.

"Dance with me..."

She looked at me reflecting every bit of the light around, wondering, I could clearly see, if I had finally lost my last logical thought process. I laughed at her surprise and grabbed her hand, running to the front, leaping out of the bus as it pulled away.

I could hear the conductor yelling abuses at us, but it didn't matter.

I loved this spot. It was along the seaside, breeze in your face... "Perfect for a dance, I say..." I spun her into a turn, laughing at her surprise.

She turned like a floating leaf.

I didn't expect such grace when caught off-guard, but she spun around and stopped perfectly. I pulled her back towards me, feeling a kick in the gut as she rolled against my chest, turning in my embrace.

Those eyes, those glowing pools of magic, looking up into mine, she ran her fingers down my neck, one hand still in my grasp.

"Let's dance."

There was a good chance she had telepathically transferred the thought to me, because nothing broke the silence of the spell she was weaving.

She twisted out of my arms, one hand anchoring her to me, as she drifted around me.

She led me, twirling step by step towards the pavement, where she proceeded to land, like a petal settling on the ground.

I turned her once more, wanting to see the precise magic of her movements before she stopped, and for the first time, she stumbled. Her grimace of self deprecation was possibly the most alluring thing I'd seen. She didn't like not being perfect, she didn't like making a mistake... I caught her around the waist, marveling at the sheer feeling of the body I held.

She turned to look at me. The shadows on her face kept me from reading the stories her eyes were telling me, but I didn't need to see a thing. I knew before she reached up to my face what was to follow. Her fingers played along my waist, and the other hand played with my braid. What the shadows didn't hide was hidden when she undid my hair with a deliberate hand, coming closer to me till all either of us could see were shadows, all I could feel was her hand on my neck, and her lips on mine.

Aashna Iyer Performs - "Inheritance"

I can't believe it took me this long to put this up!

Really makes me question my existence, this lapse... Anyway...

Menstruation isn't too much fun, guys, I mean, let's face it, we hate 'that time of month'. And you know what society does to make it better for us?

They treat us like we're dirty.

We're not allowed into temples, not allowed to touch our own stuff, not allowed to eat what we want, wear what we want, not allowed to play with who we want... Life after puberty is shitty, if you're a woman, and there's no reason why it should be!

It's so silly that we're a country of people for whom sacred equals 'motherland', 'gai-mata', 'Durga-ma' and what not... You know what ALL MOTHERS have to go through? Menstruation!

What is the logic here? NONE!

This is my attempt to get you to think a little, question a little, and maybe stop inheriting those ridiculous bits and pieces of knowledge that have been passed down to you by generations of ignorance...

Climax

She fell back against her pillow, exhausted.
She had to take a few deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart, each breath escaping her lungs as a sigh. Lying in the comfort of her sheets, she closed her eyes, reliving the past hour or so, smiling at the memories, revelling in the complete satisfaction engulfing her.
"What a workout..." She whispered, her eyes still closed, "nobody prepares you for this stuff."
He had really pushed her to her limits, taking her to heights she didn't know she could reach. It had all escalated so fast, she still couldn't believe it. When her phone had buzzed, she had no idea it was the start of something so... "Phenomenal..."
She grinned to herself, aware that she was shamelessly boosting his ego, but she knew it was equally her contribution.
They had both been giver and taker, alternating seamlessly, supporting each other without needing to say anything. Like he'd read her mind, he had responded to every cue in fairytale fashion. And she'd loved having a hand in his responses, knowing that the increasingly intense reactions, the new responses, the involuntary reactions they had both experienced were what they had created together.
She replayed their conversation in her head, from the first message to the last, laughing at all the bad jokes, heart-rate increasing at every new level of intellectual stimulation and marvelling at his skill with words.
"Who knew a random conversation about nothing could be this intense an experience?" She murmured to herself, unlocking her phone to read the chat again.
He had the disconcerting skill of taking a simple chat conversation to dizzying heights. Which was why she was so hooked to him. It was a rush so much more potent than flirting, so much more real than sex; talking to him made her brain work on overdrive. It wore her out like no physical encounter could, nobody had made her feel this alive before, nothing had ever made verbal sparring this... Memorable.
"And the best part? It's all virtual... No expectations from this... No 'will he, won't he'..."
Chat over, end of story...
She flopped back into bed, smiled at the chat window once again before keeping her phone away, turning the lights off and sleeping an unparalleled sleep.

Respite

Days come, and go away
Every day, that's how it stays
The monotonous expanse of
Day after day,
Today, tomorrow and possibly yesterday
But there's a difference, a little change
Between today and yesterday

When the sun sets on the monotony
And lights go on in the city
Suddenly, there's life
Where monotony used to be.

No longer lost in the glaring
The staring light of the nearest star
Dreams shimmer in the dusk
Shake off the day's dust
Beckoning to you, and you must
Respond

Because what else can you do?
When the promise of distraction
The brief respite of delusion
The break from the everyday
Calls you towards it?

The nights are the real deal
Where else lies the appeal of a world
Away from the drudgery
Of monotony?

My nights are mine to revel in
They're for imagining and  dreaming
They're stripped of logical reasoning
My nights are for me
To hope that I'm the dream that he
Goes to bed to see.

Borders

I drew a line.
For trespassers,
Prosecution
You drew a line.
A layer,
Semipermeable.
Everyone has lines
Different lines, different rules
Boxing them in.
You hold them at a line's length
A box away.
But the world grew smaller
And smaller
And smaller still
Till there was no line's length
No boxes
Till we knew all our neighbours
We saw each other
Unrefracted
Through personal bubbles.

Story-Teller

He held the power to weave spells.
He didn't look like much, on the get-go, in fact, seemed like a mousy nerd-type.
But it was when he began to speak that I met her. She's the spell he creates, every time the same one.
She's got piercing eyes that look right into your soul, they build bridges from his soul to yours, actually. She laughs a lot, a sound that makes you wonder why his words are so sad.
Her hair, that's what gives her away. She looks like the girl next door, until you notice her hair. Her hair is shiny and straight, bobbed just under her left ear, and extending in gradually increasing lengths till it nearly touches her right shoulder.
That's her personality, the surprise of an offbeat haircut.
It's the lurking danger of a forest fire on a calm summer afternoon.
That's the reason he's got volumes of emotion to convey.
She's brilliant, as is he. And together, they were as much a perfect fit as they were mutually poisonous.
He knows she exists. I know I'm not the only once who can see her.
She floats around him, chuckling softly at his funnier lines, leaning against him when it gets emotional, and once, when he performed a poem I'll never forget, she stood next to him, holding his hand, all through.
He talks to her, and this is why; even though I've never met her, even though I suspect I'm smitten just hearing about her through his verbal assault on my senses, seeing how he is because of her, I hate her.
He weaves spells for us to get swept along with, so that nobody notices that this is the time he spends only with her.
He'll walk away, thunderous applause following him, oblivious to everything as she leads him, fading a little with every step.
He knows she's not really there, she's walked out of his life a long time back. He knows that it's his heartache to bear. He knows that she's living her life somewhere, laughing that laugh, hiding her volatility better, with a new haircut, new people in her life, with a new life.
He needs to write, needs to feel, needs to be there, on that stage, because if he fails to, she'll never return.
And so he'll be back.
Grinning at us all, making us ache for reasons unknown to us.
Because she'll be back, then. She'll hold his hand.

Pi

I always identified with you as a kid
A burden far too heavy to lift
It was more than thrice your value
But if anyone could do it, it was you

Whenever you came up, I was torn
Between options I'd to pick all on my own
But decimal or fraction,
You were a good distraction
From the host of calculations
Still to come.

Capable of being a part of many lives
Math or science, as you'd decide
Jack of all, integral to calculation
A multitasking force of existence
With a finger in many pies
Once in a while, a gastronomic surprise
The world would not survive
Without three point one four one five

Hop, Skip and Jump

Out of all the women he saw on a daily basis, she stood out.

“Which is odd on so many levels…” he mused, lying in bed, looking out into the dark, “Because not only are they hotter, they’re also taller. And more insistent…”

But she had managed to catch his attention; and keep it, which was a bigger miracle. He’d seen so many people walk off that stage, but she had been the only person he’d been actively looking for. He didn’t know when his interest in poetry suddenly spiked, but now he was watching videos online, some, coincidentally, featuring her… Actually, all of them were featuring her; he still didn’t really give a rat’s ass about poetry.

His phone buzzed, surprising him out of his reverie. “Who’s still awake? It’s like 2am!”

He checked his phone and his heart skipped a beat… It was a text from her. “You’re awake?”

Ding

“I’m usually up at this time. And inclined to reply, coz the daft WhatsAppers are asleep.”

He sniggered. Sounded like an insane person. “But damnit, I like her insanity.”

He couldn’t wait to meet her; to talk to her outside of work, to play with that hair of hers… She was so alluring in so many ways, he couldn’t think of her without thinking of that first glimpse he got of her, shrugging off the jacket he now knew she always wore. He’d made a mental note to make sure he saw what she was like on stage, and when she’d stepped up, he had made a mental note to ensure he didn’t miss a single minute of her being up there.

Her eyes mesmerised him. And her hands, her hair, her grin, and oh holy God, all those expressions!

He smiled into nothingness now, as he thought of her inhumanly animated face. She was something else.

And he was going to meet her tomorrow. “Or, today, actually… It’s almost time…”

The thought gave him goosebumps. He’d be able to talk to her without work interrupting them, without friends watching, without that guy… She was always with some guy… Was she dating him? Anyway… He’d find out tomorrow, when they’d finally get to talk without a million pointless things annoying them.

***

The hands of his watch told him that their date had begun an hour ago, and here he was, still sitting in traffic. He’d called her, told her that he was running late, and had known from her response that she didn’t really expect him to make it. He couldn’t really blame her; he’d been planning to meet her every Monday for the last two months, and had to cancel. Even this meeting had been postponed, and he’d be damned if he let that happen again.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he reached, hearing her incredulity over the phone lines with a grimace. The next few minutes were the worst torture he’d been through. Suddenly, all he could think about was how annoyed she’d be, the surety that she was dating that guy, or that other guy, or maybe someone he hadn’t met yet, and it was insane.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself, “You’re the party-starter, you know how to get people talking. Get her a drink or so, and you’re in the clear.”

He sighed in relief as he saw her walking towards him. He’d been sure that this was never going to happen.

She was smiling, she was obviously not too mad “Oh my God, it’s really… You have a Royal Enfield?”

“Hi…”

Wow, that was an inane greeting… “Arre ya, I always wanted to buy an Enfield, they’re awesome bikes. Hop on.”

He twisted around at a slightly painful angle, just so he could see her as she hopped on. He grinned at her as she looked around absent mindedly for a place to hold on. “Shall we?”

She looked up at him, eyes grinning right back “What’s so funny? Never seen a short person on a bike before?”

He turned around with a snort, starting the bike with a sigh of relief. This was going to be fun.

***

‘She’s having a good time!’ his brain was screaming the joyous news at him as he looked at her excitedly talking at him. ‘At’ because he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. She looked so enthusiastic, so happy, that he couldn’t do anything but look.

“So… I should leave…”

He snapped out of his reverie as she sighed and looked up at him, already moving herself away from the bike.

“DO SOMETHING!” his brain screeched. He couldn’t let this end so soon, it had only been… Four hours. He wanted more of her time, he wanted to see her like this, without a thousand people vying for her attention and pulling him away. He wanted to get her to stay back, not leave, give him more Mondays.

He reached out, hugged her and decided never to let go. Her hands wound around his waist, feeling perfect in the cool night. “Don’t let her go…” his brain told him.

“Don’t leave me… Stay here.” He told her.

She pulled back and looked up at him, eyes shining in the streetlamp “I would… But Bombay…”

He sighed “I know, I know… You do what you have to do.”

But he couldn’t let her go without letting her know that she was more than ‘those chicks you meet everyday’ that she kept talking about. He had seen her eyes shut down every time she said that, and now he knew she’d been freaking out about how many women he saw. She needed to know that she was different.

So he pulled her close, cupped her head in his hand and kissed her. He knew he’d done the right thing the second he felt her relax. This had been what she’d been waiting for… The sign she hadn’t expected. He loved how she felt in his arms, she was perfect, seemed to melt into his hug, he wanted never to have to stop kissing her.

***

He walked in to work that day and felt lonelier than he ever had before. She’d been here the week before. He could still see her with that amazing energy and that stupid sock on her hand. Everywhere he turned, he saw her absence, and all these women… But not the bundle of magic that she had been, every curl of her hair alive with her presence, every place a little brighter because she was there…

He heaved a sigh and went to work, unsure of when the bar would be fun again.

Shadow

Ever tried and failed to forget someone? Here's what that's like...

Out Of Sight

Not a shirt on my back, the song runs
It's like a cruelly worded pun
Now that I'm out of sight.

You had said it's not the end
Said we'd meet again
Said this was not what we began for
Said our road would run on longer.
I believed in your poetry
Had no doubts about sincerity
Till you showed me that out of sight was truly
A mark less to tally...

APM Basement - My Life is a Box

SMM Dilemmas

We all have moments in life
When it's time to make  choice
One decision that could change all
One move; either way, it's your call
You decide, you choose your fate
You pick between relief and hate
One way or the other, you're stuck and you know it
You're losing your mind and you cannot show it
It is a curse of society
The diktat of propriety
Should I - Could I do that?
Can I ping him?
Do I dare start a chat?
Would he respond, would he ignore it?
Would I look at the ground, hope to be swallowed up by it?
Distraction won't work. Eyes stray to the page
Where they tell me he's still online at this stage
Start typing
Stop typing
Start typing
Delete
And he's still online, making this harder for me
Maybe that chat will result in something more by and by
The thought gives me the strength to finally type "Hi..."
And the crazy voices in my head
Scream that I should have ignored him instead
And now I stare and I stare some more
Hoping for a reply, hoping I'm not ignored...

Storms

You never stand under a tree when there’s a storm coming

You run for cover, run home to a warm cup of coffee

You don’t stand around, waiting for the storm to hit, enthralled by it’s whirling, swirling gusts of wind

Pushing you around, the rain and thunder engulfing you till you’re the only one you know exists because the rain is hiding you from view

It’s only when the storm passes and you walk home, sodden, squelching water at every step, ears still echoing from the wind and thunder that you look back and realise that you’re storm-washed and storm-drenched and you’ll never be that person again

You marvel at other people standing around marvelling at your ridiculous choice or bad luck to be caught in a massive thunder-lightning-pouring-rain-storm

Because they, who ran away, safe at home, doing the right thing would never know the delight of being alone out there and feeling all the dirt and grime be replaced by a light-headed, freshly-washed fuzzy warmth that no amount of coffee can replicate

That’s what I was thinking once, as I walked up to perform

This… This is like standing outdoors in that storm.

You’re alone up here, with everyone watching you take on the forces of the stage.

It’s lights, sound, action as you breathe in deep, it’s just you and your words and your thoughts as you keep time

As you keep count

As you keep pace

As you keep track of the words and the thoughts…

As you perform

It’s a temporal, beautiful, nerve-wracking ordeal

It’s stress like no other, it’s love like no other, it’s a high like no other

And it’s something people might scoff at you for, they’ll tell you that you’re wasting time;

That you’re betting on a losing horse

That you’re heading for a fall.

They’ll tell you that you have priorities,

You have responsibilities,

You have duties,

You have families… But you run out into the storm anyway

Because when you step off that stage, aware of every squelching step away from the spotlight,

You know that the person who stepped up to take on the stage is not the same as the person who walks away.

You feel that light-headed, freshly-washed fuzzy warmth that only comes when you’ve faced up to a storm.

Sapiosexual

The more I heard about him, the deeper I fell
"He's smart!" They told me; "He's sweet!" They said
In the flood of his smart, sweet, intelligence
I dropped, swimming with the fishes, weighed down with cement

Like the bottom from my world
When they said he loved another girl
They told me numbers don't lie
They don't turn a blind eye
That his heart, although broken
Was irretrievably taken

They showed me shadows in his eyes
And hidden pain in his smile
They told me he'd never returned
Forever shy now he'd been burned

The more I heard
The more I yearned
The more he said
The harder I fell

His bruises match mine now, one for one
They said his love was forever gone
They said it was hers, he'd never be free
They told me to walk away but nobody could see

That was harder than anything else could be
I wanted to cure the hurt I could see
The more I heard, the more I fell
For him; sweet, hurt, intelligent.

Stories

What will I do when I miss you?

When nights are hard because the day didn’t have you in it?

How will I deal with day after day

Dealing all alone with life’s shit?

Because even on the most selfish level

Soon we’ll be in different places, and I’ll miss you like hell

So what’ll I do when I miss you?

When I want to drink and talk about work?

What’ll I do when I feel that need

To go out and eat way too much?

What will I do when I want a hug?

What on earth am I to do

When you’re alone there and you might need me too?

I’ll miss you like hell

You know me enough to know that well

In you, cheesy as it sounds, I’ve had it all

I’ve found a poet, a best friend, a sounding wall

I’ve had hugs and love and fights

I’ve had chilly bike rides and unforgettable nights

We have stories together, you and I do

When I miss you, that’s what I’ll do

I’ll write out our stories

I’ll write them well

I’ll keep them to remember you and me

When I’m alone and I’m missing you like hell.