Remind Me to miss you

Remind me to miss you.

Remind me to remember you

like I always have.

I keep forgetting names

and streets

or where my house is.

I keep forgetting

dates and faces

like I am being pushed

down a dungeon.

The appropriation

of my adult bones,

falling heavy on my 

childlike heart-

I keep searching for things

without knowing

what I am looking for.

It's numb where it 

shouldn't.

It's itchy where it 

shouldn't.

Can you come

and hold my hand?

Can you come

and remind me

what warmth feels like?

Teach me the smell

of fantasies.

Show me dreams

and teach me

how pain feels.

Remind me what 

reminiscing is by tracing 

your stories on my hand

till all my nerve endings.

burn it in my skin

before I lose it all

and fall down

an hopeless abyss.

Crush me with your softness

and bruise me with 

the itch of your love again.

Treat me like a toddler

one last time.

And if there is no hope

left-

strand me

in a certain dampness

that reeks of your love,

and dump me

in a desert

to search for hope again.

Villain for Peace

Don't talk.

Don't talk and try

to be lovable and nice.

Enough smiles

and uncomfortable laughs,

awkward silences,

and half-truths

that are bad lies.

Don't give suggestions

or try to show care.

Don't suggest new outfits

or healthy diets

that I could try.

Don't try to sound easy

and try to make it simple.

Don't try to own my pain

like it's a DIY craft

from Pinterest.

And above all,

don't keep asking me

if I have found another girl.

You have broken me 

enough and moved on,

already.

Don't try to fix things,

just because you pity me.

Well wait,

you don't feel sorry for me.

You are doing this

because you want to be good

in your own eyes.

You are polishing your guilt

in my waters,

so you can glide your 

reflection without taking 

accountability.

Well, all the best.

Go get that happy sleep.

If your ghosts visit you,

gaslight them too-

tell them how I wasn't 

good enough.

tell them how bad I was.

You always needed

a villain for your peace.

and here I am,

serve me on a platter.

Soaking Her in a Song

When you soak her

In a song and keep

Listening to it 

Over and over-

The melodies stick

In your skin like

Someone cauterized

them in your bones-

The rhythms turn

into fragrance-

Even the sense of your

appetite emanates from 

the same tones-

Ohh! What a life.

What a disposition.

It's as if the moon 

Needs your validation.

Butterflies seek you

For color designs.

The sound of rain is

Your composition 

and you decide the

Picturesque course 

Of every river.

Your senses bask

In cosmic rhythms 

and you feel you're 

Forever redeemed,

Like you've tasted

Flight.

And your euphoria 

Is justified-

If love and music 

Doesn't give you wings,

Redbull never will.

Wonder between Pages

Our story is written 

Somewhere,

If not in Stardust,

In half-burnt charcoal.

If not in the golden pages

On the rough surface of 

Lichen-laden rock.

Preserved in a 

Century-old book,

If not in ancient exegesis.

Hints of old-style dried 

Roses between the pages,

Waiting for some kid to 

Accidentally read it.

He mumbles and laughs,

And screams in joy while 

Grasping words-

It’s fun to turn pages

And gleam with wonder 

Without even 

Understanding anything.

We are that story.

Not words.

We are the wonders 

Between the pages.

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.

Spells and Jinx

The petals blooming 

Out of thorns.

Fragrance beneath 

Those cement walls.

I've seen you mumble 

Hymns of love,

Behind the face of 

Your anger.

You're tough, 

You're soft.

A mountain that can

Protect a flicker-

And a flame that can 

Be fire to tame a

Mountain's rage.

And because I want

To be grounded

In your pragmatism 

And float away in 

Your reveries-

Here, have a rose.

And my heart,

And many reasons-

A snowflake to be

Molten your palms.

A dew drop wanting 

To be liberated by 

Your feet-

I'm a Muggle in awe

Of your spells.

Jinx me more,

I'm happy to be a

Subject of your magic.

Cupcakes

As I try to look her

In the eyes.

My shame repeatedly 

Breaking into a laughter.

Looking away.

Trying to look again.

Slowly getting used to

The depth of her gaze.

She smiles.

I look away and 

Come again with only 

A thought in my mind-

How to kiss her today.

My desire peeks in 

And out. Passion 

Knits rationality with

Love.

I ask her to lean to 

Whisper a secret.

But only dare to kiss

Her on the forehead.

She sits back and

Smiles wide.

She knows only so

Much can be done in

The restaurant.

The rest of the time 

That was left,

I lace my longing 

In the cupcakes she 

Brought.

Piece by piece I place

It between her lips

While I look her in 

The eye. 

My gaze steady--

Each bite

A hidden kiss,

A held breath,

A promise left unsaid.

And when the last piece 

Melt on her tongue.

There was no shame

Left. Only the comfort 

Of being known.

She understood 

A poet’s heart—

That sometimes love is 

Best served in 

Metaphors.

And birthdays are 

Sweetest when the gift 

Is simply accepting 

The love as it's offered.

Like this one was.

Waiting for you

And while I wait for you,

Wait to hear your voice.

Wait to have that one

Real glance -

I see the second-hand

On my watch turn into 

A knife,

Each tick is a slash.

Fatigue sets in.

My anger simmers.

I question your intentions 

And almost edge my

Longing into disgust.

But I wait.

I sit here gulping pain

And nursing my wounds 

With your thoughts.

And as you make your 

Steady appearance,

The flowers that bloom

Here, 

Ward off my misery.

Life seems sorted 

Thereafter.

Earth stands healed.

And I become the 

Same fool again.

Butterflies

These butterflies in 

My stomach that

Whisper your name.

They tickle my fancy,

They colour my

World in new shades.

They get to head,

Go to the heart and 

Don't let me sleep.

I seek lullabies of

Of your lips in the dead

Of the night and 

You appear like a

Holy voice that 

Wash away my sins.

That's how you sing

Me to sleep these

Days.

And in half-dreams

I slip in better realms.

Only to wake up

Rinsed in starlight..

The butterflies again

And your name.

You're the enchantress 

Who has stolen me 

Away.

Intent to Preserve your Gaze

I've stolen your gaze,

And I intend to 

Preserve it.

I've wrapped it in my 

Favourite songs.

Soaked it in the fragrance 

Of the flowers I've 

Adored.

I intend to nurse it 

With my nostalgia and 

Nourish it with the presage 

Of great time that's 

Ahead.

Ohh! How I wish to be

Seen by your eyes

Again and again.

How I want my name 

To be uttered along

With yours.

How I want be stolen,

Intoxicated and 

Drowned in your depths.

And if only, redemption

Didn't lie in this yearning-

How I wouldn't even 

Dare fall for you--

But I do. I do. I do.

First Day

If I were in the first 

Year of college today.

On the first day and 

In the first class-

Among the band of

Those lean girls with 

Deep eyes..

You would be there

Too-- soft cheeks

And a bright smile.

Not hesitating to

Laugh gracefully with

Those feeble lips.

Not at all bothering 

To mark my humble 

Presence-

Casually playing 

With the strands of 

Your hair to cook

Guys like me..

Who would still be 

Thinking, infatuation 

Is a crime.

Maybe I would slip

Into a whirlpool of 

Fantasy to fall for you 

Eventually, and never 

Conjure up any courage 

To confess about the 

Ocean I carry.

And maybe after 

Brooding for over 

Four years-

On the last day of

College, in the

Farewell Program-

I would gather just 

Enough voice to ask for

A pic with you and

My wingman would 

Mess with the camera..

And your persona in

The blue saree would 

Forever go fading in 

Memory for years or 

Perhaps for decades.

When I Can't Fall in Love

When I saw you 

Yesterday, standing 

Outside the metro.

The sky didn't melt.

Earth didn't shake.

It didn't rain.

And as we walked,

As I tried to catch 

Your glance-

My stomach didn't 

Conjure any butterflies.

Or my head didn't sink

In imagination of a

Rainbow laden sky.

Blood didn't rush

To my veins, bones

Or to the one that 

Erects.

I wonder if this isn't 

Love. I wonder if 

This longing isn't 

Enough.

I've deliberately 

Dug up my fantasies 

To plant my desire-

But nothing has 

Bloomed yet.

It feels weird to not

Fall for you.

These bones of Iron

And muscles of steel

And the sparks that

Fall short in the nerves

Ask only one thing-

What's worse?

Digging up love when

There isn't or unable 

To feel its presence 

When it's abundant.

Delulu

This wind that 

Must be passing 

Through her loose 

Hair..

The stream that 

Must have flowed

After caressing her

Gentle feet..

This feeling of 

Breathing under the 

Same sky as her.

Feeling constantly 

Her whispers in my 

Ears-

I paint her with my

Fascination in the 

Eye of my mind.

I adorn her with 

Stardust in my heart.

The artist I wanna 

Become, what a 

Feast, she is to my 

Rose-scented desires.

Lost in the maze 

Of swirling starlight.

Dumb struck and 

Humble..

Ohh! How astray 

I am on my own 

Definitive paths. 

I know the birds 

In the sky, give no 

Damn about me but 

How good it feels to

Say to myself-

They might be 

Carrying the songs

She has sung,

Why else would they 

Chirp so good in

A place where I

Happily reside?

Fading

There's a memory of 

You and me.

Sitting by a lake.

Stream of water 

Flowing through our

Feet and you talking 

About an exotic fish.

I try to hold on to it.

I paint it daily in the 

Canvas of my mind.

Attend to details,

Fine-tune it to the way

It's supposed to look.

It's been a decade

With this carpentry 

And for the first time 

Now. This morning I've 

Forgotten your face. 

The shape of your 

Nose has faded out

Of my fancy.

Glint of your eyes 

Has disappeared in

The hiccups in my

Longing.

The tone of your

Voice seems to have

Embraced a void 

And your fragrance 

Has stopped triggering 

The saudede in that

Place beyond.

I try to hold onto your

Your silhouette at least.

Try to fill you in from

The archives.

But another year passes 

By and I find myself 

Painting the lake bland 

With me alone looking 

Vacantly in the distance.

Maybe I'm with thoughts 

Of that exotic fish

You talked about.

Not knowing you faded

Away mid-sentence-

Still too eager hear the

Next thing you'd want

To say. But there's 

Silence and silence 

And silence..

Refusal

I refuse to look you in

The eye. I refuse to 

Let my feelings run wild.

Your slender hands and

Gleaming face.

Tiny feet and the way you

Sway when you walk...

I refuse to conjure the

Moon. I refuse to 

Soak my fantasies in 

The blue sky.

I like listening to you.

I like talking to you...

But somehow I refuse

To use the other four

Lettered word for the 

Things I adore in you.

Don't know why falling 

In love with you feels

Like a crime.

Don't know why I think 

Your name would hesitate 

To sit beside mine.

I don't know what 

Holds me back. 

Believe me I've even 

Deliberately tried.

My hesitation to answer 

The question you're.

The mystery you've become 

That I refuse to solve..

Thrusting words to this

Feeling feels like a crime.

Yet you fleet in every 

Act of mine.

I refuse to look you in

The eye. I refuse to 

Let my feelings run wild.

Next Frame

Right here, this moment.

Under the yellow light.

While chills of December 

Teases our passion..

What would you wanna

Remember from this

Passing time?

The rustle of leaves 

Against passing traffic.

The elasticity of desire

Across our eyes.

The door of my house

That wants to open and 

A hot cup of coffee that 

Wants to be brewed to 

Host you once.

What should we do with 

This hesitant longing 

That makes us stand 

Below my apartment?

If someone should take

A photograph of us now.

You in red chudi and 

Me in yellow-T and jeans..

Years later, if someone 

Should See it and wonder,

Where the next frame

Went?

What should I say?

We ended up together 

Or just turned into 

Familiar strangers?

Enchantment

What eyes have cast a bad spell 

On me. I do not know. I stand in front 

Of the mirror often and smile.

What shadows have colored
My beliefs. I do not know.
I question myself often and sigh.

There are doodles in the
Last pages of the notebook.
There's a name dancing on my lips-

I don't want to say aloud.
Fresh bloom of roses in my garden.
The lilies are open for an affair.

What witch has unleashed her
Enchanted cats on me,
My head full of rats is on riot.

The resistance inside asks if
It can bell the cat and I almost budge
To the onslaught of demands but

Something tells me to loosen up
A bit. I do not know what makes
Me go crazy these days-

Just wanna throw my hands
In air and artlessly dance.

Wish we could be friends again

Before I saw rainbows

In your eyes and 

Bloom of roses in 

My heart.

There was an island 

Where we could casually 

Talk, laugh, cuss and

Gossip.

There wasn't anything 

Special about the things 

You did.

Not receiving a call for

Weeks wasn't an issue.

Even talking to you

For hours didn't build up

Any expectations.

Then a fantasy grew.

Things changed.

Our island got infested  

By butterflies.

And when you ask why 

Can't we be friends..

I don't know what to say.

The dangle of earrings, 

Carve of your lips.

God! How your smile is

Enchanting these days..

I wish I can ignore 

The strands of your hair 

Caressing your cheeks.

I wish your persona

In the black attire 

Doesn't hamper my

Heartbeat..

If you can tell me

Convincingly why the 

Hell we can't be a thing..

I'll tell you exactly why

Can't we be friends 

Again.

Till then adios my

To be or not to be 

Friend/lover with an L.

Men In Love

I don't want this night to 

End. I don't want this 

Conversation to run out

Of steam.

The moonlight reflecting 

From your eyes and

The enchantment your

Lips have cast..

There's something about 

Today's sky. 

Something about you in 

This cold-stricken passage 

Of time.

The sways of your hair 

Against your cheeks.

My heart playing tricks 

With my senses..

It's hard to express.

Your persona building a

Nest in me like you're a 

Sparrow and my yearning 

Finding excuses to make

You origami crafts.

Damn this feeling.

Why would anyone 

Stereotype men as 

Strong and haughty?

They clearly haven't seen 

A guy fall in love. 

Smooth like fragrance.

So soft, even a thousand 

Feathers can't match 

The caress.

A man falling in love is

Like a little girl's dream

Translating on her face 

When she's asleep.

You gotta be careful 

To capture it.

It's a momentary lapse

Of reason. 

A little rush and 

He'd be conscious.. 

And you may never see 

That blush again.

Well, till maybe when 

He'd be blessed with a 

Daughter in some 

Imaginary future.

'S'

This urge to capture 

Her pics. This urge to 

Scream her name.

The butterflies in the 

Stomach that want to 

Manifest but don't want to 

Make anything obvious-

There's pic of an old man

Walking away in my gallery.

And of a wrapper of 

Cadbury dairy milk.

A leaf of mango and 

A discarded pen I found 

When I was walking her

To the library.

This urge to scribble 

Her name in the last page,

But it goes only till 'S' to 

To become something else.

I realize. These pics are 

The moments I steal as 

Souvenirs around my 

Feelings for her.

Random, hopeless and

Not so loud pics- 

An attempt to hide my 

Longing, even from myself.

Yet this urge to preserve 

Her presence-

The 'S' that became 

'Seagull' in my pen name.

The unsung part is the 'P.S'

That hides the things

My backspace couldn't.