cravings

Hold me...
By your tired arms
In the darkness punctuated by our fears
In the uninterrupted silence of our sorrows,
In the lost seasons of longing.

Hold me,
By your pauses,
Your introspection,
Your raw sincerity
Your perfection.
Hold me,
Too close
And far enough
From that shroud of enigma around that smile.
Hold me,
With your scent,
Your fingerprints receding from my rearview mirror
Your laughter imprinted on the insides of my head
Your absence.
And yet your permanence.

Of sins and retribution

I'm guilty
Of falling apart at the seams
Of being in possession
Of two halves

One for rebellion
And the other
Nostalgia
One bittersweet escape
And the other
A breathtaking homeward flight.
I'm guilty
Of one of me
Running into the other.
A heady collision
Sans embrace.
Or maybe
Just maybe,
A fission into oblivion
A heartbroken uncertainty
Of never getting around
to being complete.
I'm guilty
Of falling apart
Of being lynched of my self
Of running a flat trajectory
In this world
That is
Hopelessly round.

*Dream Diaries*

The doctor said he heard something crawl up his ear.
I dived in, only to find a man crawled up in the corner.
Those are the dungeons he said.
I don't remember visiting them ever before.
I remember seeing him open the trapdoor,
One latch came loose,
And the deluge that followed.
I remember holding him close
And I remember his heart throbbing on my temple.

****
I woke up to the sound of heavy machinery.
Oddly enough, mother was in the next room,
First time in six years.
Weaving yards and yards of clouds on a dun canvas scaffolding.
'Wings' says she, 'for you.'
****
I sit there while she binds a slender silk sash around my face and my throat.
'Helps you breathe. It gets nasty up there'
****
And when I finally let I go,
He breaks into hysterical sobs.
Which is surprising,
For I have no memory of him,
Other than the back of his neck.
My road to tranquility,
In the years that went by.
****
I see her standing in a distance,
Statuesque and regal.
Faceless,ageless and yet so divine.
I know she was pleased when she heard me.
I know.

"Us"

We've carved our story out of imagined nothings, caricatures crafted of a conjoint conscious. You and me, and the omnipresent, sacrosanct, distance.
We've lived a night or two engulfed in each other's voices or maybe a gaze or two, intensified, insane, transcontinental reckless, romance.
I've learnt a thing or two about keeping time and distance on the tips of my fingers, sometimes, deep into the midnight I feel them nuzzling at my toes as well. The relative irony, Oh treacherous, treacherous time! Oh tricky, distance you!!
I am a person moulded of a few years' longing and ages worth of whispers carried through the air!
I have been your muse, your scribe, and your tales; years' worth of longing oh! and time haunted by none other than.....the time!
I have constructed a magnum opus on the threadbare canvas of your fleeting presence. A masterpiece to be revered through the ages.
And carved a little memorial out of our fragrant mediocrity; the sweet ordinary-ness of your run of the mill romance.
OUR beautiful run-of-the-mill romance.
I long for a day from an imagined future, with a little ingredients from the past often scoffed at, and a few miseries and memories and contentment of the present.
I long for the privilege of your constant albeit silent presence.