Miles away

I can’t seem to
Recognize faces anymore.
Faces dearer than
Books to bibliophiles,
Look like opaque, hazy orbs now.

For the longest time,
I believed that my vision’s blurry, or
Perhaps I have lost all of my mind.

Frantic, I run away
Every time I hear
Someone approaching.

There’s this fear
That’s made a home
In my heart.
Like that one song
You play on loop.
One that keeps playing
In the back of your head,
No matter how much
You want it to stop.

An irrational fear
Of hearing a familiar voice
And not being able to
Picture the person on the other end,
Grips my very being.

Paranoid, I’ve been
Knocked down hard
By my own self.

So now I ring
Every doorbell in the city.
Desparation is all my nerves feel now.
Hopelessly trying to find someone
Whose face I can picture
By the sound of their voice.

It’s been years
And now,
I’m a million miles
Away from everything
I once called home.

All hope lost,
I knock at the last door
In this strange city you call home now.
Who would have known
It would be your voice
I’d be able to paint into a picture
Even after all this time,
In a foreign land,
Miles away from home.

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Mourn the living.

The curtains fall,
Yet again, the stage is set.
The Puppet Master’s ready
So who’s your bet?

Dance, keep dancing
Till it feels like a convivial night
At the masquerade ball
Hush, no, don’t you put up a fight.

Mourn the dead, they say
Cover their gory, abominable faces
Fill your cup of wine, drink up now
Don’t fret, they’re gone, that’s how life paces.

How much is it worth?
Dancing to these tunes you hate?
“Well, what choice do I have?”
“That’s just fate.”

Mourn the living, I say
Don’t pray for the one who’s dead
The Puppet Master’s ready
“You’re next”, he said.

Change.

I have a kaleidoscopic vision
Of normalcy
Varying from place to place
Time to time.

Nothing but atrabilious thoughts
Crowd all the faculties of my soul
-A darkling.
Yet, I find it arduous to explain
How comforting it is to be us.

To know everything changes
And yet a constant thought remains.
The thought of you.

If change is normal, what is love?

I sit beside the burning embers.
Collecting the ashes of burned memories.
Letting them burn my fingertips.
Letting them burn anything that touched you.
Letting them burn my very being.

To know everything changes
And yet a constant thought remains.
The thought of you.

Change is certain. So is death.

In death too, I’ll love you.

What do you see?

What do you see when
The blinds are drawn in
Turning daylight
Into a dark abyss
Turning lazy daydreams
Into nightmares?

What do you see when
There remains nothing
But a hollowed cavity
Where your visual cortex
Existed?

What do you see when
They ask you about
The canvasses that remain
Untouched now
The ones that have started to look
Like a grave covered in dust and cobwebs
One that gets no visitors?

What do you see when
You have a perfect vision
But no one to look at?

Forced.

I am a hoarder.
I have a hard time,
Trying to give things up.
Things, thoughts, people.

My heart, just like my home
Is filled with numerous things
Things I probably don’t need
Things, memories, people.

To you, it might seem crazy.
It probably is.
The semblance of something real
Something that once was,
Is the only thing I hold dear to me now.

But my hands feel the strain now, love.

Trying to keep turning back
Pages from old books, old memories
Kept in the dark dusty room.
I’m allergic to dust, you see.
Yet, you’ll find me in that room
With dusty old memories of you.

But my hands feel the strain now, love.

I’m tired of trying to hold onto
Things, memories, people.
And,
Our forced love – that once was.

Breathe.

Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
My lips repeat.
Quivering.
Fumbling for words,
My brain responds to
Your agonizing wails.
I move closer
To the source of the sound.

I’m alone in a dark room now.

Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
My lips repeat.
Fumbling for words,
My brain responds to
The blood pouring out of my veins.

The sound of your wails
Becomes more intense now.
What place is this?
I scratch the surface
Of the walls that are now closing in.

It feels like an eternity.
I see you now on the other side.
I see you smiling from beyond the tunnel.
How long have you been dead for?
Or have I been pretending to be alive all this while.

Winds.

The wind carries my soul to you
The distance between us
Is nothing but a whirlwind of
Silly winds of grief.

Someday these winds
Will carry my mortal being
To you, my love
And diminish this vast distance.

Until then, I’ll sit by the window panes
And stare into the vortex of time
Through each multiverse,
Reminiscing how light faded upon you.

I’ll wait till these winds
Return to my garden
And take my ashes to
Finally meet yours.