June 2016

You Don’t

You don’t want to be loved by me.

I will put my arms around your neck and mark my territory. I will want to put my hands all over your body and write pretty poetry on your skin. I will want make a museum of all your belongings, I will want to make a museum out of you. I will want to glide my fingers on those forearms watching how the veins carry your blood to your heart, I will want to do that all day and night. I will want to kiss that face the first thing in the morning and before you sleep and then watch your eyes move while you dream. I will want to be the part of the dreams you watch. I will want to put a picture of you in my purse and look at you when no one’s looking at me. I will want to make a home out of every inch of your body. I will want to draw maps on the scales of your skin and travel along them. I will want to memorize the shape of your lips, eyes and nose and I will want to put in on canvas. I will want to crawl inside your skin and look for the lost love. I will want to open my chest and put myself in your hands in the hope that you’ll preserve me like one those collectibles you love so much. I will want to carve your face like a pumpkin and keep it on the top most shelf.

You don’t want to be loved by me. Because I will never stop pouring and you’ll eventually run out of vessels to collect me in. 


A Cordial Loathing

I sit here reading an article that goes something like this, “Things men hate in a woman”. At 2 am, in my bed, I read this article, trying to take a note of every single thing on that list to make sure I don’t mess up with the next guy I meet.

My whole life has been this. This constant fret of not trying to succumb to the notions of how I should be and shouldn’t be.

Don’t be too open that article says. But how do I tell them that I have a heart who’s key apparently I’ve lost and the insides keep on pouring out. How do I tell them that I’ve been pouring out ever since I was born and no levee has ever been able to stop me. 

Don’t ask too many questions, the next one says. How do I survive without asking him which bright star do my eyes remind him of? Or does he want to draw the patterns in his mind on my skin? Or does he want to make music from the strings of his heart dangling from mine?
Or would he prefer the thud thud in my chest over his favourite band?

Don’t always say yes to what he says. Yes, you make my heart go wheeee. Yes, you make me want to pull out the escapement of every clock in this world to hold the time still. Yes, I will stand by all the storms holding on tight to your arm. Yes, I will light the candles on my fingers to illuminate all the darkness inside of you. Yes I will be those lines of poetry that find you when you’ve lost all your belief and hope. Yes.

Give him space, he’s just a guy. But how do I disconnect myself from someone who’s existence I am aware of in my whole body. My skin is engraved in every letter you spoke. How do I remove those screaming words from my skin? My shoulder blades crave the resting of the incessantly perturbed head.
I would move the entire universe if need be, but how do I remove the shards of you poking through every inch of my body.

When he leaves, let him. I was once told to let go of everything because holding on is too much pain. But how do I tell them, how my hands have never lost the sense of your touch, how its your smell that wakes me up in the morning and ruins my nights sleep. How do i tell them that no matter what i eat the taste of your lips never leaves mine? How do i tell them that there were two stars and now just one remains, lost and empty of all its light. 

I close the article because I know I wasn’t meant to follow any of the things listed in it. I shall and always be a universe too big to be contained in this one.

How We Ruined Love

I think the millennials have got the whole concept of love wrong. This coming from another millennial, how absurd!

I look at all these people who say they’ve given up on the idea of love because they couldn’t find happiness with one person. How can you be sure of your inability to love when it’s just one person you’ve tried it with? How can you say that love isn’t meant for all if all is what you haven’t even tried reaching for. I see people shutting their hearts to the possibility of love and it saddens me because I am the kind of person who wishes to give out as much as love possible and when I see people not trying to open their hearts and their minds to idea of love I see the end of this world. You can call me hopeless romantic or unrealistic or unfit for this pragmatic world, but I am so glad you can’t call me a cynic when it comes to love.

See, I believe in the idea of love more than I believe in science. I believe that love is what opens the caged heart and let’s your breathe out in fresh air.

That does not mean that I am one of those sappy people who cling on to the idea of soulmates and that love is what was meant to happen only once in your life. Bullshit. I believe in love how a geek believes in his codes. Now I might know nothing about coding but I sure as hell know a lot about love. I know that when you have to ask a person to love you in return, that’s not love, that’s just a barter. Love was never expecting to be loved back, it was never supposed to be a barter. Love was love. The fact that people confuse wanting love with wanting relationships is terrible because love never asks. I would never want you to hold my hand constantly no, rather walk with me, walk with me to the edge of the world.
Push me and watch me fly.


Did you know that the first time I kissed you I could taste the cigarette you smoked and I’ve been addicted since.

Did you know that those fingers that ran down my neck and back left an intersection there that I am still afraid to cross.

Did you know that those gleaming eyes when looked at me, I could feel a thousand lightning bolts hitting my body.

Did you know that when you whispered something in my ears, I could feel the music one only knows exists in the universe but never comes across, the music of the stars colliding.

My body

My body is haunted.

It’s haunted by your touch.
The ghost of your presence still lingers in the curves of my body.

Did you notice how my body moved when I was with you. It was as if you were the strong fall breeze and I was this powerless tree which couldn’t help but sway in your direction.

Did you notice the electricity emitted from the way you looked at this body as if it was the only holy place in this world and you couldn’t help but sin.

Did you notice the trail that you left on my back, claiming that this was the only place you wanted to come back and explore.

Did you stop to smell my skin? Your scent lingered on even after you left, no amount of water could wash away the scent of your body from mine. No smell could replace this scent.
No touch could replace this scent.

Did you notice the fuchsia liquid running in my veins just as you softly touched my waist, splatting your colours in my black and white life.

Did you notice how my curves moved with yours? As if two rivers flowing, overcoming all the obstructions in their way, just flowing in the hurry to reach somewhere. Maybe in search of a home. 

Did you notice the parts I left inside you?
Because since then I’ve just been empty. 

Things I wish I could tell the people who hurt me the most

You did not break me. Sure for a while I might have seem broken to you, pieces of me lying around, shards of my soul scattered on the ground, but YOU. DID. NOT. BREAK. ME. I still have the power to pick each and every piece of myself from the ground and build a new me.

My love for you was not a house which you lived in and could just abandon. My love was an ocean, wide, full of life and beauty. My love could’ve teared down mountains if they were in your way. But now my love is like a river, which flows calmly and which will meet its other end when the time is right.

My friendship was the most precious thing you could ever lose. My friendship was the beach and you were a hand holding the grains of sand.

Wish I could sew every wound you ever caused me. But the time has healed most of them and now only the scars show. Which I prefer to carry around on my skin like battle scars.

After all that we’ve been through, my heart still holds you very near because I wouldn’t have been a strong and magnificent woman if it weren’t for you and the hurt you caused me.

So, thank you for hurting me because it’s that hurt that taught me how powerful recovering from the hurt can be.

Thank you for showing me how much power I hold in my heart.

Thank you for showing me that I am the Sun, radiant and capable enough to set this whole world on fire.

Thank you for showing me how my tears can be my strength, just as how a mere drizzle can turn into a downpour which can destroy cities.

Thank you for teaching me that love doesn’t conquer all, because if it did you would still love me. But it does conquer the right ones and I am glad i am one of them.

All I am trying to say is thank you for all the hurt you caused me.

Thank you.

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