Struggling to write,
Think, talk, anything,
Nothing comes to my head,
Because I keep drawing blanks,
The words on the tip of my tongue,
As soon as I try to think of them,
A cloud roams over my thoughts,
Static coursing through,
Stealing any semblance of thoughts,
Lights go on,
And the room stays dark,
Lost in the things I can’t find the words for,
What was it I need to say…?


With all the lights gone,
Only shadows remain,

Some good, others carrying the weight of the chaos and destruction with them,
Each waiting in the fallen pieces of me,

Creeping up,
Ready for me to collapse under their weight.

Doubt is a funny thing,
Lingering like the shadows,

But worse, I suppose,
Because the doubt doesn’t dissipate when I turn the lights on,

It doesn’t linger,
It stays and wallows with me,

Waiting for me to collapse under its weight.
Love is the same,

Hidden in the most unexpected places,
Never where I want it to be,

And always where it needs to be
Even when I don’t want it.

But such is life,
Never following the plan or set motion,

Letting love flow and move with the moo and her tides,
Never allowing its weight to crush you,

Holding you when you collapse from everything else.


Filtered shadows

Carved out in the slips of light left behind by the suns rays.

It’s where I know you’ll be, waiting and ready to greet me after a horrid day, a place to rest my head when I can’t hold it high.

Waiting for me to escape, vent and cry, if only to make myself feel better. Because I know you’ll never judge, with open arms and kind eyes.

Hold me a little while longer, my solace, my sanity and my home. Forever waiting in my shadow. Filtering through the mess we call life .

Carved in between the good and bad, the safest place I’ll ever find. Thanks to you.

A message to the stars (pt 3)

It’s five in the morning, and I’m penning lines down, trying to recapture what we had in paper. Most love stories don’t have happy endings, and I’m beginning to realize that now. Once, the idealist in me thought we’d dance to the rhythm of strong passion forever, never missing a step. But looking back, I realize that we’ve stepped on each other’s toes way too often while we waltzed, and the only way out now is through the guilt and pain. I look outside the window and find the twilight capturing an aging bramble. It’s full of thorns and has seen the seasons of its life. I believe that we, like it, can’t be redeemed, and all that’s left is to stop pining over each other and move on, as hard as it may be, unless fate grants us a miracle. 

It’s midnight and the words only come to thought because I won’t, can’t write them down. It’s too much, I want to be down with you, this, us. It’s all too much, I’m just tired. Tired of wishing it wasn’t this way, Tired of wishing it was worse, so then at least I’d have something more to complain and whine about. I can’t help but to feel it was meant to be this way, for the best, for the both of us. Because, that’s what my heart says, what my mind concluded, and what I need to be the reality of this. We were like the stars, those same one we talked so much to, the same ones that I look up when I need to be reminded of you. But like those stars we burned and burned, falling only to shatter and our pieces scattered in the wind. I can’t be tied down, neither can you, so let’s take a page from the stars that range free and beautiful and be remembered for what we created when we exploded in the sky. 

Who would I be I was still with you?
Would we have grown together,
Embraced our flaws and learned to be what the other needed…
Would we have grown sick of each other,
Hating the very things that made us fall in love.
Love, such a loose word for us.
Would that have changed too?
Would things have remained the same,
The same tired lies and excuses,
Our fights that grew harder and frequent and violent.
The walls that grew and grew, until I wished to throw you over.

The same abuse I let happen,
Again and again,
The bruises faded so the damage wasn’t permanent.
The same tired lies and excuses.

Because I thought that’s what was needed to keep us together,
Would I have learned to love that too?
What if is such a dangerous game?
And I still played it with you
Countless times,
Because what if it changed,
What if, what if, what if, what if….

I scream it until my throat is raw,
What if I had been enough,
What if you were good for me, and god how I wish you were.
But that was the naivety in me,
What if I had been smarter,
What If I got tired of the same old lies and excuses.
What if I told myself I deserve better…
Because I did.
I still play this game,
But at least I will never know what it is like to love and still be loved by you.

a message to the stars (pt 2)

I know that I hurt you more than anyone else I know. I try assuaging my guilt by drinking from a bottle of wine. It’s three in the morning, and here I am, hoping I can cry, but the tears don’t fall. I’m usually a happy drunk, but tonight I’m bitter, caustic and sorrowed. Love eats you alive sometimes like rust eats iron. I’m jaded and put on a nineties rock album hoping it will make me feel better. It doesn’t help, and I tune up the volume. I don’t worry about waking my neighbors. I feel angry and violent. I hurl the bottle against the wall, and it breaks into pieces with red rivers running between them. I guess it represents us in some twisted way. It kills me that the passion we once had fell apart, and now lies like broken shards, wounding us each time we try to hold it again. 

I know you like to hold it in, wanting to be tough, lest your vulnerability comes through. And not because you are a coward, not because you can’t face your emotions. But because you wish to be strong. Strong enough that the pain doesn’t cripple you, and strong enough to rise above. But I know you’re only human. And that pain is what makes the fabric of life. So yes. Feel the pain let it embrace you until you struggle no more. But learn from it too, because it was your anger that drove us apart; your need to keep in inside until it explodes. That’s why we were never able to glue us back together. Know I’ll help, be there to pick up the shards of what was left of us. In hopes to save myself and who I know you can be. But it’s also to ease my own guilt. Selfish, in fact. Only because I know this kills you inside and I know I’m the reason why. 


Once again, thanks Nitin. ❤ Check our part one if you haven’t already! a message to the stars

if my ceiling could talk…

I wonder what my ceiling would say if she could talk?
She’s see so much of me,
So much of my intimacies,
Between myself, and those I let crawl into the sheets she gazed on.
The moments that made me wonder,
The sleepless nights she let me stare at her,
Unnerving and solemn.

Lines I created and burned,
Ones no one dared to cross,
Ones the wrong people burned through,
And the she saw the ruins it left me in.

What would she say to me, if she could,
Would she hug me,
Soothe me and wipe the tears as they fell?
Or would she shake her head and chastise me,
Mock me for allowing these things to happen without her guidance,
Or would she remain silent.
Letting me talk and scream and cry,
And simply be the pillar I know her as.

What would she say?
The ceiling I stare up at every night,
And tell me most intimate secrets to.
What would you say?