Thought for the Day: 2nd May, 2014

What is it about

The truths of this life

That makes us so cautiously despondent

And so willing to believe

Its lies

April 29th, 2014

You talk of the monsters inside of you,

Of their defined, declared purpose

So why do you not speak when I ask

"What of the love?" 

Dear Love of My Life Who I Have Yet to Find

Dear Love of My Life Who I Have Yet to Find,

I know you’ve taken quite a few wrong turns, eluding me for most of my existence. But then, we might have met, given in to our stubborn natures and refused to feel. You and I, we’re messed up in all the right ways.

I want you to know that I stumble more often than I walk, and I have more insecurities than I can count. If you know me - the way only you are supposed to - you will also know of my love for the hopeless and imperfect and of the pride I have in my work. You must also know that I am capable of spite and jealousy and all the lowest of emotions. That I am capable of hurting you and spewing inappropriate pop-culture references. You have to know that my wishbone has a backbone and even my dreams have a certain pragmatism to them. You have to know of my need to be alone and to be overly critical. You have to know that more often than not, I am lost and have a hard time finding myself. You have to know, my love, and still love me.

I beg you to have patience with my fallacies and strengths, for I know – in my old, cynical way – that I will be fine. And so will you – with your own set of weaknesses.

 It brings a warm smile to my lips to think that you could be reading this, wondering what caused this change in style. Or grinning at the screen, questioning my sanity. But this might go unnoticed, while you struggle and cope with your own colourful life. I wish you luck with that.

I know this sounds a bit too tame, but I look forward to meeting you.

Yours,

The Love of Your Life You Have Yet To Find

Heartbreaker

She needed to break something
Hear the satisfying screech of glass against granite

Coincidence dipped its sticky fingers,
And the first thing that caught her eye - was his heart

Scribble Scribble

"I always thought I was going to be older,

That I was going to be someone, about now"

"Ananya, the only person you need to be

About now, and  perhaps always, is you."

Autobiography

I must confess
that I am infatuated
with the idea of heartbreak.
And that I have always wanted
to light a cigarette for myself.
I have felt invincible and fragile in the same moment.


I must confess
that my fickle heart
and my loyal soul forever battle.
I long too often for the unnamed-
so much so, that when I leave,
I don't walk, I run.

I must confess
that the tragic holds
a significant allure for me
What I feel is not serenity with my being
We argue too much, this life and I
But we are searching, always searching.



And while I am at it,
I will also confess
that the brave things i say at night
never occur to me when the sun is out.
And in my proudest moments,
I don't say anything, I sing.

Maybe

Maybe you will accept me
and all of my stargazing
Shall have meaning.

But maybe you won't
And I will say I'm well
Broken, I will try
And believe my own words.