Monday, 9 October 2017

Now and Then I Live Eternities

fall under my shine
for you and me belong
to the same set of waves
that paint us in the kind of love
people die of
and reject
in the name of immorality
and lack of consistency
for I often remain a part of your dreams
and you of my unwritten parole
from what I say words that sting
the edge of my tongue
and right under the pile of
emotions you lie on
for I am with you
a lover of no existence
I survive a million days
                                                                                    a million seconds
                                                                                    now and then
                                                                                    I live eternities.

Artist : @artidote 

Sunday, 3 September 2017


but darling,
there was a time
when i was so whole
my crevices cracked
of my fullness,
i am open for
you and them
to put my pieces
back in my grave. 

I like my men vulnerable

But then moments back, I was lost under the same sky you shunned away as yours? Are privileged are you in love?

They tell me you've been softer before
but breaking hearts is an art you learned
when women grew looser. Their exposure was as reckless as the emotions you clutch under your cold fists. I've been there, been sat on and crushed by a man who gave me slow breathless kisses but then went away to find happiness in women who fell in his arms, right after the ruin. Love making can be tough among strong men history teaches you to be.

But listen,
I like my men vulnerable, the one who looks into my eyes holding back his years of turmoil and love, the one who gives in the moment he sees my arms open, the one who kisses scared to be left by me, the one who isn't reckless but is careful of the falling rain on our sullen faces, the one who puts me to sleep when night isn't close by, the one who gazes at me from far off corners, the one who cries when hurt, the one who i can call mine, the one who softens every second of the life we share, the one who isn't tough when in need.
I like my men, the way they like me. Hopeless and vulnerable.

Artist : @artidote love

Monday, 24 July 2017


some days you are more
than just a memory,
some days you are
a mirage with no trick
to catch,
some days you are as
hazy as our first kiss,
some days you grow
in my chest like a
pelting pain,
some days it's easier to
look at you with eyes closed,
some days i melt
under your skin,
some days i fear
your departure,
some days you leave me
notes with no love,
some days i scoup
from your fantasies,
some days I am as
delusional as your existence,
some days, you come closer
with no intent,
                                                                                some days I see you
                                                                                sitting on the moon,
                                                                                some days I breathe heavy
                                                                                catching hold of
                                                                                nothing more than my
                                                                                own forgiven conscience
                                                                                and that's when i know    
                                                                                that some days i dream
                                                                                a little too hard.

Image Credits : Artidote 

Sunday, 16 July 2017

//Behind your Back//

how many times have you gone back 
to scratching your old wounds?
Healed, they stay there
reflecting a forgone time
of lost consciousness
and drunken amazement,
here you are
sitting and loitering
back in a time
that passed away in seconds
walking on a path full of
wet sand and cranky winds
they begin to define you now
and yet
you go back to it
for the kind of solace
that only makes you drop
down your shoulders
till world itself
rejects you sorry apologies
and half dead attempts
to go on in life.
How long?
                                                                      how long have you been
                                                                      waiting with your eyes shut
                                                                      for your tears to push through
                                                                      and take a final fall of resistance ,
                                                                      to sit adamant on your dried skin
                                                                      and lie unassisted
                                                                      on your curling heart,
                                                                      it bleeds no more?
                                                                      are you listening?
                                                                      to those murmurs
                                                                      slow whispers,
                                                                      thrilling silences;
                                                                      they still talk about you
                                                                      only this time
                                                                      behind your back.

image- @pinterest 

Thursday, 23 March 2017


I have memoirs within me, they unfurl when I travel alone, noticing and un-noticing many that pass by. Sometimes they belong to me so I smile engendering memories we shared and bred together. I click and click till they blink their eyes and vanish but then there are those I don't know, those new to my existence, those who pass by without smiles and warmth, those who are busy making memories with their own people, those who have their own clicks, those who have their own memoirs. Those who don't belong to me and yet every time I travel alone they pass by me and it clicks.

Image - Pinterest 

Friday, 10 March 2017


I have unmade veins, they are a mix of green and blue, traveling through whatever little is left of me. They are no maps to where my intention lies, they are his doing, he made them to find my own ways, ingesting hollowing smoke into them, puncturing my flesh, oh! there is none left. They spread among the redishness of my burnt skin, he often leaves his traces down where he travels. You won't find me, I am lost within my own veins.

Image- Pinterest