maybe, in a parallel world
our fingers would be twirled
maybe, in a parallel universe
each night, we kiss till it hurts
where when you look in my eyes
all that you see are blue skies
where our steps never went adrift
as if there was a different script
where my heart beats next to yours
and every day is not a curse
i know the thought is lunatic
but, darling, don’t you ever think
that somewhere in the multiverse
there is an us that made it work
is it too much to wish for an alternate life
one where your warmth still lingers by
is it too much to ask for another life
one where, somehow, we survived

you clearly love to own my tears
staking your claim in my list of fears
yet, the absence of you makes me sweat
i’m more scared of solitude’s silhouette
funny, how i have grown to crave
all the ways in which you misbehave
even your arsenic-laced tongue
tastes as sweet as honey and rum
and when you take my hand in yours
my heart forgets to lock its doors
like the grim reaper, you bite my soul
helplessly, i let you swallow it whole
all while i wonder what is better—
to let lonesome devour all my cells
or to share a bed with the devil herself

arsenic was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

her eyes are a scarlet trap
yet her pull is divine
the way she clues me in
then leaves me behind
her mouth calls me babe
but it isn’t me she means it for
her lips do touch me, though,
they wander to else’s doors
she holds my heart strong
with chains made of gold
but i’m not the one to complain
i like the feel when they get cold
not often that she shows her love
with her fingers, turns me blue
and when her nails draw blood
it tastes as sweet as honeydew

funny how the winds have turned
how your kisses have started to burn
and as your touch becomes fatal
i still agree to be ruined by it

i have walked through hell’s fiery pit
and i’d walk again if it came to it
as the calamity of you engulfs me
i’d be content just having known it

you were my unholiest addiction
the kind one wouldn’t find in fiction
now i see myself stumbling and crawling
in the shallows of your creased affection

i shook the earth only to find your dust
but i know to let you go if you must
do you see how the ground is still moist
from the tears my soul cried hereafter?

unholiest was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

oh, lover from the past
what brings you here?
did the nightmares wake you again?

don’t worry, it won’t last
i know the skies look grey
but they will soon be purple again

trouble will leave fast
just remember to be brave
wildflowers will rise from your pain

let your tears pass
don’t let tomorrow wait
stars will emerge out of the rain

oh, lover of the past
fall into the night’s embrace
let darkness go and your heart remain

With a cup full of my favorite hot beverage, I go out on my balcony and take a seat. It’s raining. Heavily. There’s something about rain that draws me towards it. Wherever I am, whatever mood I am in, if it’s raining, I feel at ease. I move my gaze from trees to the sky to the fence where a couple of squirrels are merrily prancing around. I am not the one to stay focused. I often get distracted by the incessant flood of thoughts hurling in my mind from here to there. There’s almost always a lot going on. Just like those black and white TV static screens when the signal goes off. Most times my musings are meaningless and other times they are chaotic. However, sitting here while it rains makes me want to get philosophical.

As an anxiety-ridden perfectionist with a problem of over-thinking, the first thing I begin to contemplate is all the pending tasks on my to-do list. It’s weird how there’s always something to do, always something to worry about. Books unread, songs unheard, words unsaid, stories untold. How is it that at any given time, we are not where we hoped to be? There is always an urge to keep moving. Always someplace to reach, somewhere to be. There’s always some missing piece to this puzzle that we call life. An ever-present overwhelming feeling of incompleteness. My mind fluctuates between the past and the future. I am reminded of old embarrassments and haunted by the fear of what’s yet to come. All my deepest insecurities knocking on my door simultaneously. The feeling of worthlessness, hopelessness, and the feeling of being directionless. We can never know where these routes are going to lead, but the fear of what could happen stops us from even trying to tread them. I can feel my heart racing faster — the intensity of pounding increases with every beat. I snap out of this anxiety roller coaster and fixate my gaze upon the trees. I focus on listening to the sound of raindrops touching the ground. I am now at ease.

There’s something inexplicably soothing about pouring rain: the sound of clouds gurgling, and the faint smell of wet soil. I heave a sigh and tell myself that it will all be okay. My mind takes off, and the thoughts retake the wheel.

Maybe, we aren’t ever where he hoped to be because we just can’t plan life. The unexpected is bound to happen. We have as much control over life as life does over us. It is unpredictable, it is unfair, it is chaotic, it is messy, it is beautiful. Maybe the reason our problems don’t end is that that is what life is — a series of problems. Maybe, life isn’t just a big story with lots of twists and turns. Maybe, life is a bunch of stories interwoven into one another. Sometimes life can be a series of sad stories, and other times a series of randomness. The point is to try to solve the problems that we face.

As I am absorbed in thinking all this, a bird flies up and rests on my balcony railing. It’s all puffed up and wet, but it looks invigorated by the rain. No matter how troublesome the rain may be for the world, that bird is having the time of its life by simply making most of the present moment. The bird catches its breath and jumps off and flies away into the rain; so do my thoughts.

I notice the rain getting slower. After a minute or four, it stops. The sky looks clearer. A ray of sun pierces through the blanket of clouds and lights up the environment. Because no matter how long, how hard, how intense, and how terrible the rain might be, the sun eventually shows up to brighten the day. Dark times pass and we emerge stronger. Just like the trees that moments ago were struggling to stand straight but now, they’re towering still — looking livelier than ever.

you are the sun
and the river and the moon
you’re the shiver in my bones
you’re the liquor that will ruin me

you’re the feeling when i’m home
the beginning of a storm
you’re the echo in my cold abyss

you’re the fire in the dark
the desire and the spark
baby, kill me with your golden kiss

abyss was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

the stars are softly weeping
while my lover rests afar
let me merge into the earth
let me fill a river in my scars

eons are standing still,
and fireflies are adrift
in the seas of my sorrow
the heavens stop and shift

beneath your gold sight
i shall crumble in time,
and since forever ago
fades away the moonshine

and shall your bloodlust
start to grow intense,
devour my bones, dear,
and i shall be cleansed

bloodlust was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

i’m tired of convincing
my demons to quiet down
i’m tired of pretending
that everything is okay now
i’m tired of the droning pain
that plagues my days
i’m tired of worrying
and how it makes me afraid
i’m tired of hoping
and caring and waiting
i’m tired of the light
that just keeps on fading
i’m tired from the core
all this pointless existing
it’s moments like these
when my heart’s hesitating
i’m tired of failing,
stumbling and losing my way
i’m tired of these nights
only to face another day

tired was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

baby, i’m falling faster
than a meteor on cocaine.
loving you is natural
something one can’t feign
your love is forever
like a tattoo on my brain.
look how the stars are
jealous when you step in.
your eyes spell lightning,
it’s frightening.
how every time i lose me,
you find me.
you hit me like caffeine
on cold days.
you are like a plot twist
on weekends.
and everything you embody
is a blessing.
and when you call my name,
i crash faster
than a meteor on cocaine.

Thanks for reading!:) Explore more from me.

meteor was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.