Zhakm ke bazaar mein
Naaptol ke dard
Becha ja raha hai.
Gaye the hum bhi,
Kamaye huye,
Kuch ghaav leke.
Kacche aam ki
Keemat shayad koi
Nai karta waha.
Shayad, achaar
Dalna padega.
Falling for her
Would have needed
No reason,
Her smile was enough.
Like the slide of knife
On butter.
Slip of tongue as
You stutter.
Love pretty much
Is a work of gravity.
But un-loving..
Demands blood.
A work of iron with
Deliberate thumps.
You may have to
Chop your tongue,
Vomit your guts.
Stab your heart to
Suppress thoughts.
Kill your mind
With sanity,
Slap your fantasies
With a purpose,
To hold onto reality.
Un-loving is like
Digging a well
In the desert to
Forget thirst..
Heat takes a toll later.
But hope will
Kill you first.
And when the bluebird rides your thoughts and there is no way out. You take your pen and paper and scribble everything down like you wanna bleed it all out. But It's just a trail of mental diarrhea on paper. Nothing redeeming.