Innocent Love

When love is still

A fresh paint out of 

Coloring books.

The idea of it being 

In a place beyond 

Good or bad--

It's actual butterflies.

Light legs, dance 

Moves and radio 

Playing your favourite 

Songs--

You couldn't even

Say her name aloud,

Thinking whatever 

You felt was sacred,

And it needs to be

Preserved--

A dreamy prince riding

A horse and a princess 

Waiting for him in

A glass castle--

The clouds gather,

It rains, and you're 

Stupid enough to 

Believe coincidences

And you actually smile.

Then, adulthood 

Eats innocence.

Your fantasies leak

From the gaps in

Time that's not 

Relative.

You dare say, love

Is not unconditional 

One day, thinking-

The realisation is a

Pumped up achievement--

But you'll not be

Knowing it just yet-

About how you 

Killed in yourself,

A child.

Demons

My demons stare 

At me from the dark- 

The clock whispers 

My name like I'm a 

Ticking bomb.

Every tick steals my 

Breath and I make

Deliberate efforts to

Remind me I'm alive.

The grip loosens,

Ground slips and 

Fate demands its

Rightful share-

How to hold it all

Together tonight?

I'm done tracing every 

Pulse like a prayer.

Done naming every 

Shadow of mine aloud.

This unusual knock

That seems to be 

From within today-

It breathes when I 

Breathe,

Grins when I choke,

And whispers- 

That only peace 

Is my surrender.

Mocking my efforts

To stay human,

Pushes me to edges

And I tend to give up.

If I let go,

Will it catch me?

Or will I discover

A new me, 

Tomorrow morning?

Soft-prey, marinated

In caffeine and despair-

Insomniacs are 

My favourite it says.

And lured by a few

Ounces of sleep-

My eyes close.

It turns dark.

The demon devours

Me, and whoever 

Wakes up-

Wears another shade 

Of eyebag, like 

The next morning is 

A Zombie Apocalypse.

Resurrection

When Grandpa got 

Bedridden, stopped talking,

Everyone began visiting-

Aunts, in-laws, cousins.

Aunts of aunts,

Cousins of cousins.

Every day sipping chai,

Talking, reminiscing,

Full meals and gossip-

Waiting for him to die.

His breath would pace up

Or eyes would abnormally roll.

And shivers in his legs-

He was in and out

While everyone waited.

Days passed and weeks.

People came and went.

Some stood their ground,

Some were frustrated

And never came back.

Some thought they would 

Return once he died.

The event became a 

Running joke eventually.

One day, he stood up.

After a while, he started 

Walking around.

Talking and cussing like

He always did.

His revival confused 

Everyone. 

To be happy or sad?

The churning of free

Sucrose while they 

Waited for him to pass-

Was it this uncomfortable

When Jesus resurrected?

Might be.

Maybe Jesus cussed 

Everyone who were 

Disappointmented by

His resurrection.

Someone took a note

And it's a religious 

Scripture now.

Shoes

Dad doesn't wear 

His shoes. 

Weak knees- 

He fell off a couple 

Of times.

Afraid of wearing 

Them now.

But he polishes 

Every morning and 

Slides them under 

The cot, like it's a salute 

To his body that 

Doesn't obey.

Dreams of running 

With the shoes on 

But the reality of

Every morning is

A defeat of limping 

In the house.

This struggle-

Past borders, 

Past medals,

Past time itself to

Cope with the new

Reality-

The battlefield now

Is the hallway,

And victory is simply

Not falling.