Caretakers of a messy garden

My best friend, once, listed down
thousand reasons stating why I
should be loved and one of them
read, ‘she will never pick up your
calls, but is a very good listener’
‘Funny’, I told her.

Mom, sometimes plants a kiss
on my forehead, which feels soft
like the sky, a few minutes before
the sun sinks down the horizon.
Maybe even more lighter and
smoother than that. And then she
whispers, ‘Honey, you are beautiful.
I love you’.

My brother seldom reads the things
I write and when he finally does, he
appreciates them with a meagre ‘your poems are just fine’. •

But the way his eyes light up stars
and moons and galaxies all at once
while saying those words, I know he
means it. I know he means every
damn letter of, ‘your poems are just fine’.

And my dad, he stays silent like he
has been for eons. Maybe, he says
something my ears often miss. But,
he does smiles.

So, you telling me that I suck
doesn’t even matter. Because
I have got people who if tomorrow
my roots die a premature death
will never stop watering me.
And for them, I’ll revive.
always.

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Conversations at midnight

It’s the same night again, where we are so close to each other that I can hear you breathe and count each of them, like one, two, three, four

It’s the same night again, where I can listen to your hearbeat that’s playing like a soulful symphony in my ears. The kind of music I want to listen the rest of my life.

It’s the same night again, where I am tracing constellations in your eyes so intently that we never realise that morning sun coming up.

It’s the same night again, where we talk about each other. Where you tell me about your first love, the heartbreak, the times when you felt like you can’t take it anymore, the first time you saw your mother cry or the first time you saw me.

It’s the same night again, where I confide you about my vulnerabilities or fears or my obsessions and you don’t wince or turn your face away.

It’s the same night again; you, me and the book that we left unread.

Empty Apologies

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you bombarded me with those hundreds of text messages. I had already buried my phone in the backyard and nobody knows about it.

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you wanted to go out with me for some fresh air or maybe, a pizza. I had lost my appetite a long ago and was apparently, choking as if the air was toxic just for me.

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you locked yourself in that dark room and refused to venture out. I was myself wandering in the pitch black street and couldn’t find a way back home and to you.

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you slashed your wrist a little. My own scars were new, and they ran deep down even below this superficial skin.

Sorry, I wasn’t there to wipe away your tears. How could I’ve done that when my own hands were smeared in mud?

Sorry I wasn’t there to help you mend your broken pieces. I was searching my own scattered ones. I still am.

(Empty Apologies)

Eighth letter

Dear You,

I am cold since the day you left. Because leaving you was almost like death, the only thing is, I am dying a little everyday. But your thoughts refused to be buried.

I search for you in every stranger down the street, in the face of a man who’s waiting for his lover or the one who couldn’t take eyes off his girlfriend.

I can feel your touch in the wisps of cool breezes or the shaft of sunlight filtering through the trees that kisses my cheeks. It almost like you making love to me everyday without being present.

The truth is you never leave my mind, not even once. You are with me, every hour, every minute, every second of my life and that hurts.

Love,

Me

About you

Dear You

Yesterday, I told him about you. I told him about the day we first met. I told him about the day, we ran away from the Christmas party to be somewhere peaceful and had our own slow dance under the moonlight.

I told him about the day, we fought with each other only because you said that Friends sucks. I told him about the day, you wiped my tears before planting a kiss on my lips. And how in that moment, every wrong felt right.

The kiss didn’t take my breath away but made me feel safe.

What I didn’t tell him is that, I miss you. Everyday, I try to find you in him. That, I feel like cheating on you by being with him. I don’t feel like home in his heart. It has been with you. It was always you.

Yesterday, I told him about you.

Love,

Me

Hold on

There’s a reason why we hold on to some people for too long. Everytime you try to let go a little, the more you cling to them. You know that they won’t reply, still you don’t want to lose a single opportunity of getting them back again. You don’t mind calling them 20 times a day, even apologizing for for mistakes that you didn’t even commit. You always remind them of your cute little memories, having time of your lives. Those late night conversations, morning brunches, surprise birthday parties and the way you pick up each others scattered pieces. That’s the kind of impact some people create on our lives. The problem is, you gave them a bit if too much of yourself and now it’s so difficult to get it all back.

Not that girl

All those letters, I wanted to send you, now rest peacefully inside the four walls of my cupboard. I don’t wish to send them. Because, the girl that penned those sad words down, is not there anymore.

I am not that girl, who would constantly look at the phone in case you text me or something like that.

I am not that girl, who would sit at the park bench and sulk at the happiness around.

I am not that girl, who would spend sleepless nights thinking about what could have possibly went wrong.

I am not that girl anymore.

I am that girl, who believes that some things in this world doesn’t stay forever, it has to end someday. Even the pain.

I am that girl, who believes that to survive here you don’t need anybody else to love you. You can be your own lover too.

I am that girl, who believes that if it didn’t work out with you, maybe it will work with someone more better.