tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81328576212376333812024-03-16T06:40:50.641+05:30Life that Demands to be NoticedUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger772125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-13253636352219863852024-02-21T00:03:00.001+05:302024-02-21T00:03:10.742+05:30Creature of habit<p>You used words I haven't heard before</p><p>And my drunken brain couldn't comprehend</p><p>What I thought was interest turned out to be</p><p>The exact opposite</p><p>And yet, sesquipedalian,</p><p>You stuck to your bloody ways</p><p>And I got lost in the mumbo jumbo</p><p>Of flirtation - or whatever the fuck it is you were trying to say</p><p><br /></p><p><i>Word of the day: sesquipedalian</i></p><p><i>given to using long words; (of words) containing many syllables</i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-31183161733737230562024-02-16T23:00:00.003+05:302024-02-16T23:00:13.548+05:30firethe saddest part of all this isn't that<div>i could make a bonfire of all the hurt</div><div>you left scattered in my life</div><div>but that even as the fire crackles and burns</div><div>i would give you another chance</div><div>and another and yet another</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-7345655516037294762024-02-03T22:23:00.002+05:302024-02-03T22:23:58.649+05:30Coffee<p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I half expected you to walk in the door today<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sit two tables away from me<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Glance up while placing your order<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Only to find me already looking your way<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It will take you a moment to recognise me<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But I flatter myself<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I doubt you will<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today, the cafe played our song<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Scratch that<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The cafe played a song that reminds me of you<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It’s been 12 years since the song was released<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Eleven since you shared it with me<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And not once in those years have I heard it being played
anywhere<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And so I half expected you to walk in the door<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sit two tables away from me<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Glance up while placing your order<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Only to find me already looking your way<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Would we smile and leave it at that?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A gentle nod in lieu of hello?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Would you invite me to join you, catching up after all these
years<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Eleven, to be exact<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Just over a third of my life</p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-19174178340249685632023-12-03T11:57:00.002+05:302023-12-03T11:59:57.969+05:30Coming undone<p></p><p class="MsoNormal">You’ve made me come undone<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unspool at your feet<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Order replaced by chaos<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Veins tangled in my ribcage<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">An eyeball where a knuckle should be<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Is this love, I wonder<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One half of my brain where my foot used to be<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Is love disarray, insanity, disorder?</p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-10057883940653776222023-11-04T21:36:00.001+05:302023-11-04T21:36:01.339+05:30Dry<p>As I rub lotion into my too-dry skin</p><p>The brown turning whitish, grey</p><p>I remember those nights together</p><p>Your hand on my back</p><p>"You have such smooth skin"</p><p>Whenever you tell me this, I</p><p>Either give you a matter-of-fact</p><p>"It's the lotion I use"</p><p>Or laugh off the compliment,</p><p>and then kiss you</p><p>But now, those moments feel like they are</p><p>So far in the past</p><p>Like decades have passed since</p><p>Even though it's only been a few months</p><p>A few cursed months that turned</p><p>My body into an object of pity,</p><p>Indignity, aversion, malfunction</p><p>And you,</p><p>I realise that I miss you</p><p>Or perhaps,</p><p>I just miss the life I had</p><p>Back then</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-34684758793251453772023-08-20T13:35:00.002+05:302023-08-20T13:35:13.631+05:30promiscuousIt hurt when you called me promiscuous<div>Not because it was so far from the truth</div><div>An accusation unwarranted, especially from you</div><div>But because you made me feel dirty</div><div>When all I wanted to do was not be lonely</div><div><br /></div><div>When I pulled your arm around me</div><div>That one night, I wanted to feel like</div><div>I belonged with someone</div><div>And when I woke up, alone in bed</div><div>Everything just seemed so empty, so pointless</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-89612795118623874962023-08-16T10:30:00.000+05:302023-08-16T10:30:06.645+05:30Change <p>Things move slowly</p><p>Like we are underwater</p><p>And a minute is no longer</p><p>Sixty seconds</p><p>Time stops when you</p><p>Hold my hand</p><p>Resumes when you</p><p>Let go</p><p>Diagnosis, I'm realising,</p><p>Takes time</p><p>It's been weeks since</p><p>Hope was crushed by</p><p>Bad news</p><p>Good news told to</p><p>Make the scary less</p><p>Scary</p><p>This changes everything</p><p>You said</p><p>I didn't think it would</p><p>But look at us now</p><p>Changed </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-7462065487078498522023-07-29T19:16:00.004+05:302023-07-29T19:16:59.388+05:30The last timeWe talk about firsts<div>First kiss, first fuck, first date</div><div>Treat them as relics</div><div>Build museums for them</div><div>But what about lasts?</div><div>The last time you kissed someone</div><div>Touched them, loved them</div><div>Remembered them</div><div>Without even realising it?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-29841608711329958352023-07-18T20:08:00.000+05:302023-07-18T20:08:55.655+05:30'Find someone'When my mother kept telling me to find someone,<div>To not be alone in life, I lashed out</div><div>Told her to leave me alone</div><div>I was so ashamed of my inability to</div><div>Make anyone want me</div><div>But today, through a keyhole, I got a glimpse of</div><div>The vulnerability that comes with a life lived alone</div><div>And understood what it has been like for her</div><div>And why she has insisted on my finding someone</div><div><br /></div><div>It reminded me of plastic bags cutting into the skin</div><div>Of my fingers gone white from the weight of their contents</div><div>Groceries I didn't need to buy, but did to make things easier</div><div>For my mother</div><div>The heaviness makes my arms ache, my eyes water</div><div>But I can carry them because I know that</div><div>At the sound of the gate opening, closing</div><div>Or the doorbell ringing, my mother would open the door for me</div><div>Carry some of the bags inside</div><div><br /></div><div>But what happens when she is no longer here</div><div>For if nature has it's way, she will leave me someday</div><div>Who will then open the door for me? Relieve me of those heavy bags?</div><div>Who will be here to love me?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-22109821601939879082023-07-17T16:47:00.004+05:302023-07-17T16:47:51.206+05:30Little boxesYou told me you lived out of boxes as a kid<div>Your parents moved around a lot</div><div>I felt almost sorry for you, then</div><div>The concept of moving was so foreign to me</div><div>I had lived my whole life in one place</div><div>The same house, the same town</div><div>Not much changing, except a minor renovation here</div><div>A death or divorce there</div><div>And now, look at you</div><div>Living in a little box in my heart</div><div>Just another in a pile, like jenga blocks</div><div>Marked "do not open"</div><div>Taped shut, carboard covered in dust</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-85748434252059795822023-07-17T16:30:00.005+05:302023-07-17T16:32:19.860+05:30Lessons<p>You told me that most crows mate for life</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">That nineteen is too young to fall in love</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Cigarettes made you focus</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Moving on is harder when you have no choice</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">in letting go</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">You showed me how to build friendship on books</span></p><p>How easily it could fall apart – a house of cards</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Keeping secrets and hiding the truth</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Pretending that everything was a-okay</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">even when nothing was</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And as a final gift, you’ve now taught me</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">How to put things away</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Settling in with other items forgotten and lost</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Like bottles of wine, hidden behind ceramics and glass</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The corks turning to dust</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdVE1Cng50bWFHn3BG09YQS_95m013pUEtt_-jrqJBMu7BqKO0-hp92rzCaUjRMa28Vs1p7OXCBVU-rETaSciFxR6d5Izsfe_ObzIGHGKj26VPn_yISiQFMndz8uPgcI8QorvJStCpPGusYAx0kRSBZ6HCWTJya_aaqithhk8mQOjbC8pN1_GlSaIbUl4/s1047/Tyro.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1047" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdVE1Cng50bWFHn3BG09YQS_95m013pUEtt_-jrqJBMu7BqKO0-hp92rzCaUjRMa28Vs1p7OXCBVU-rETaSciFxR6d5Izsfe_ObzIGHGKj26VPn_yISiQFMndz8uPgcI8QorvJStCpPGusYAx0kRSBZ6HCWTJya_aaqithhk8mQOjbC8pN1_GlSaIbUl4/s320/Tyro.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Word of the day: Tyro</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-78874650556884235602023-07-15T14:20:00.003+05:302023-07-15T14:20:25.400+05:30sandcastlesit's the indignity of hope, of expectation<div>that i cannot stand</div><div>i hope you will sit closer to me,</div><div>and when you don't</div><div>i wish for a shovel with which i can</div><div>bury myself in the sand</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-463984902191426182023-07-15T13:30:00.003+05:302023-07-15T13:30:20.655+05:30disappointmentI sometimes wonder what it would have been like<div>To fuck you</div><div>Although, back when we knew each other</div><div>I wouldn't have called it fucking</div><div>Even sex would have seemed too crude a word</div><div><br /></div><div>I was so young</div><div>Too young to sleep with someone</div><div>Like you</div><div><br /></div><div>You would have been so confident</div><div>About showing me what a man can make a woman</div><div>Feel</div><div>That I would just lay there, wondering</div><div>When it would be over</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-57405649694369308782023-07-10T09:29:00.000+05:302023-07-10T09:29:12.322+05:30More<p>A man who loves me,</p><p>Hell, even a man who likes me</p><p>The world has taught me to</p><p>Lower my expectations</p><p>Keep my wishes realistic</p><p>But when you almost kiss me</p><p>When your hand rests too briefly on my back</p><p>I can't stop myself from hoping</p><p>For something more</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-16215772387794431292023-06-23T20:04:00.002+05:302023-06-23T20:04:57.265+05:30hopeI know how things will end between us<div>My interest will wane, and you will continue to</div><div>Live your life</div><div>And we will laugh at the jokes</div><div>Our friends make, empty our drinks</div><div><br /></div><div>You will leave, eventually</div><div>And I will forget about you</div><div><br /></div><div>But there are moments,</div><div>I won't lie,</div><div>When I look at you</div><div>And imagine what it would be like</div><div>If you looked my way</div><div>Just once</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdAD2E1RFlaJSMXmLoQGBjEJRH2VCdClt-WC5hoyyDNbLVXwCaaXQLS3tkbsIxrQJCWuww-c5Bdm9jQNUxQhnqinraJvBylpgRLsp5N-iKBoyU92rbpQyjaXfbmCGSc6zLPB4d5nwI-WqBBBYqQypGqogc9jyUmhli-DCJCUD1T9NTtZckdvb0VYsvLaX/s1051/esperance.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="1051" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdAD2E1RFlaJSMXmLoQGBjEJRH2VCdClt-WC5hoyyDNbLVXwCaaXQLS3tkbsIxrQJCWuww-c5Bdm9jQNUxQhnqinraJvBylpgRLsp5N-iKBoyU92rbpQyjaXfbmCGSc6zLPB4d5nwI-WqBBBYqQypGqogc9jyUmhli-DCJCUD1T9NTtZckdvb0VYsvLaX/s320/esperance.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-23668539901089647532023-06-17T13:39:00.000+05:302023-06-17T13:39:03.609+05:30stay."Don't leave"<div>You mumble in your sleep</div><div>It's more about you not wanting to</div><div>Wake up, get dressed and see me to my</div><div>Transport home</div><div>Than it is about wanting me to stay</div><div>And yet, I hold on to those words</div><div>Thank you with a quick kiss on the cheek</div><div>Which you probably don't even feel</div><div>You go back to sleep after I leave</div><div>Dream about the woman you love</div><div>The life you want with her</div><div>And I toss and turn your words in my mind</div><div>Savour them like a sweet lozenge melting in my mouth</div><div>Before they turn into nothingness</div><div>And slip away from my mind</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-32503638829695838692023-05-29T21:17:00.000+05:302023-05-29T21:17:06.631+05:30lovewhy cant men limit their affections<div>to those hours of waking up</div><div>instead of letting them contaminate</div><div>our hours apart</div><div>why do men look for love</div><div>where there is none to give</div><div>insist that they can change</div><div>what is set in stone</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-5704883776894852892023-05-23T22:49:00.003+05:302023-05-23T22:49:21.337+05:30lost... not foundWhere is the tenderness I seek<div>Is it under nails, like dirt,</div><div>On turmeric-stained fingers?<div>Will I find it if I scream my voice hoarse</div></div><div>In a tranquil forest that does not talk back?</div><div>Is it, perhaps, lost beneath photo albums</div><div>Moments from long ago yellowing with age?</div><div>Was it put away by mistake with dusty Christmas</div><div>Ornaments, no longer taken out once a year?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-18383278572615931182023-05-17T09:06:00.000+05:302023-05-17T09:06:01.570+05:30silenceYou once promised to share your poetry with me<div>"Let me send them to you"</div><div>You never did</div><div>That was the last time we really spoke, you know?</div><div>A few, tired words as the sun readied itself</div><div>For another day</div><div><br /></div><div>Your world is made up of words</div><div>You pluck them like ripe fruit</div><div>Arrange them like constellations</div><div>Weave them together like yarn</div><div><br /></div><div>And yet, when I sit next to you</div><div>Look for the tiniest morsel of</div><div>Hope? Interest? Reciprocation?</div><div>Acknowledgment of what once was</div><div>What could have been?</div><div>I don't even know</div><div>You have no words to give me</div><div>None at all</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Word of the day: logophile</i></div><div><i>a lover of words</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8md-a96Kxwgy96YuPOdrDJqXnuMfGMMev2iqpzHBFsvDbc9F3b9S4DmgLHnK2rj-dQf0-3rX8I5l0sFCAnBkirkJOG6CNyYZ9XDu1VcWaNPG1V9m95D41hcL25hn3n4WpglXZdJGwcdGifFcoKRS2Qyx6-cvvBuiZ0ATE3WM33wj_yM54qj7L9Ep_A/s513/logophile.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="244" data-original-width="513" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8md-a96Kxwgy96YuPOdrDJqXnuMfGMMev2iqpzHBFsvDbc9F3b9S4DmgLHnK2rj-dQf0-3rX8I5l0sFCAnBkirkJOG6CNyYZ9XDu1VcWaNPG1V9m95D41hcL25hn3n4WpglXZdJGwcdGifFcoKRS2Qyx6-cvvBuiZ0ATE3WM33wj_yM54qj7L9Ep_A/s320/logophile.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-8113637190091315562023-05-06T23:48:00.005+05:302023-05-06T23:48:52.664+05:30Phobiaa quick google search tells me that<div>the ten most common phobias include</div><div>ophidiophobia: an intense fear of snakes</div><div>aerophobia: an intense fear of flying</div><div>astraphobia: an intense fear of thunder and lightening</div><div>agoraphobia, social phobia, mysophobia</div><div>and so on</div><div>but what about the fear that keeps us up late at night?</div><div>forces us to change our ways, settle for less?</div><div>makes us choose the wrong people, live the wrong lives?</div><div>what about that intense fear of loneliness</div><div>that blooms from our skin, little forget-me-nots</div><div>deceptively delicate, and yet so eager to grow?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-34992607714152065612023-04-08T23:04:00.010+05:302023-04-08T23:04:56.399+05:30Water<p>I'm water</p><p>Taking shape</p><p>In whatever mould</p><p>Another hands me</p><p>And I feel myself</p><p>Turning into vapour</p><p>Droplets in the air</p><p>Soon to be nothing</p><p>I need to be a solid</p><p>Like wood or metal</p><p>Unchanging</p><p>Against your needs</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-18471575990022942542023-03-27T11:19:00.000+05:302023-03-27T11:19:43.019+05:30bread, butter and other luxuriesWith you, I'm willing to settle for seconds<div>A quick touching of hands, a smile between words</div><div>A hand on my lower back, a kiss on the cheek</div><div>Nothing that lasts beyond a moment</div><div><br /></div><div>I think about seconds as I reach for another slice of bread</div><div>Slather butter on it, as if soon, cows will go extinct</div><div>You make a face from across the table, and I laugh</div><div>These small luxuries are all I have</div><div><br /></div><div>A cup of coffee to my right</div><div>An offer you have never made</div><div>"Oh you are leaving" you once said</div><div>But never "stay for a while longer"</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-54196434704843272172023-03-24T15:33:00.006+05:302023-03-24T15:33:59.187+05:30the endthe days turn into weeks<div>the weeks turn into months</div><div>and before you know it</div><div>we'll be counting years since we last spoke</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-84732901311128066112023-03-19T19:01:00.003+05:302023-03-19T19:01:47.442+05:30purloinWhen you hurt me with your words<div>So sharp, they reminded me of glass</div><div>Pieces of a mirror that would cut the hands</div><div>That tried to pick them up, capture the reflection</div><div>Of a face that winces at the pain, the blood</div><div><br /></div><div>I tucked away the hurt, smiled through it</div><div>Instead turned to little thefts, malicious takings</div><div>Of what was yours first</div><div>And you would put on a brave face, say you didn't</div><div>Care, everything was mine to take</div><div><br /></div><div>We played this game for so long</div><div>There was nothing left to call yours</div><div>Except for all the hurt that settled in</div><div>Among the stolen things</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9d46VZ7J-R-oG1alZ-F5QgTM-vwOk9IoMNsSzngkzxveca8lA6Q8I6UMmVXzrE5xoKcrd4hS2jyle943-MC44a8H0JYrVxrxH56gI1DW5MweT6BXlVbKxT4tldnEsS6UC2YgaQoJ4z08KfudpwprskDBxgvqPb0lOyO4tbLt_PFq572GUH8sU5qbSVQ/s1050/Purloin.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="575" data-original-width="1050" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9d46VZ7J-R-oG1alZ-F5QgTM-vwOk9IoMNsSzngkzxveca8lA6Q8I6UMmVXzrE5xoKcrd4hS2jyle943-MC44a8H0JYrVxrxH56gI1DW5MweT6BXlVbKxT4tldnEsS6UC2YgaQoJ4z08KfudpwprskDBxgvqPb0lOyO4tbLt_PFq572GUH8sU5qbSVQ/w400-h219/Purloin.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8132857621237633381.post-10548199998063265562023-03-11T19:10:00.005+05:302023-03-11T19:10:47.264+05:30tone<p>The breeze brings with it the slightest chill</p><p>But the heat remains an undertone</p><p>Like that hint of meanness in your voice</p><p>When you say the sweetest things to me</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0