Aftertaste of thoughts

To feel so strongly is what defines me, and sometimes what destroys me

[dontmissthesilverlining-blog]

Phosphenes (version 2)

(2017)

I remember his face From that afternoon we spent Between the four walls Of a locked room- His face, as clear as a shell visible beneath the receding waves On the shore Of the cleaner patch Of the dirtiest beach in the city when I first kissed him With our feet half immersed In the sea- Because, that afternoon Inside the locked room as we lay With our legs entangled… I held his face In my palms And drew every single curve In my mind. His face, Up so close, for the last time- Right from the dents On his cheeks That stirred a whirlpool within me, To his nose that is a perfect shape Of non-flat and non-pointy; From his lips, that tasted like honey & maple syrup On a Sunday morning pancake breakfast, To the curls of his hair That could mark his silhouette In the darkest of alleys Of the new city He’d soon be in. A little blinded, and A little biased But a little in love And a little on fire I can’t help but be, when.. I’m inhaling his thoughts, Once in a while Every other hour On a boring day- Because now it is a habit I’ve fast grown used to, But I dare not tell him Of all those conversations That I sneakily have in my head With this boy That lurks in my mind All morning, and every noon- A boy I remember from the tent, Met by accident, by chance. Serendipity, he called me As he looked straight into my eyes that afternoon. I didn’t know how to tell him, Without driving him away, That when he rubs his eyes And sees stars, so colorful and bright, I want to be the star he shines with. -Skip a couple of years and one other messed up relationship before this ‘version 2′ happened… for a while.  August 19th 2017 (3:11 am), in a bout of emotions, this came out in a flow. It made me feel certain about everything I had been feeling until then..for this person. Although it never really shaped into much, it happened to me. Love happened to me when I least expected it- in whatever way and in whatever form, I felt it very strongly when it was the last thing on my mind. 

Lesson learned: Stop chasing it. 

Yep, trying to incorporate that into my daily thought-process. 

[dontmissthesilverlining-blog]

Phosphenes

(2015)

Here as I lie down between these walls staring down at me, I feel a deep void within, like a dark pit in the ground, as black as the horror it holds. The deeper it goes, the darker it gets... and there comes a point where it pains so much that the darkness seems comforting  and tears seem peaceful. Though the light of a candle  strains my eye, the noise of silence strikes a chord to my mind. And as I rub my eyes  to wipe away the tears that  soothingly blurred my sight... I see stars, so colourful and bright, those are the stars  I want to disappear with. When someone rubs their eyes, Like I just did, I want to be the star they shine with.

- I wrote this a couple of years ago when I was seeing someone, and wished I wasn’t at the time. But I was full of hope. 

[dontmissthesilverlining-blog]

FEAR NOT!

As children, there were a lot of things that seemed pointless and futile to a lot of us, an eraser for instance. Admit it, most of us did feel inferior to those who would write in ink. The charm of scribbling on a ruled sheet of paper when they misspelled a word was extraordinarily appealing somehow. Unlike an eraser though. All it did was wipe out the incorrect words to help us rewrite the correct ones. Obviously, that wasn’t charming, nah. Where was the author’s charisma in an absolutely clean essay, with no words struck out to, probably, display the change of thoughts? An eraser was for ordinary children who used pencils because they were unsure of what they were writing. Those kids who had uncertainties looming over their heads used an eraser to help them start anew once the lead of the pencil began losing its sharpness and the words began to lose their meanings. I was one of them. We all were.

We all waited to grow up, to be worthy enough to write in ink, and dropping that pencil into a bin in the corner of the room. Not until much later did we realize that this ink which we fancied so much for years left permanent marks on the pages of our books. But it was too late before we realized it. Gradually, we came to terms with it and continued writing with utmost precision to avoid making mistakes.

Today, as adults, we’re so used to writing in ink that we fear making mistakes. We are terrified of taking risks. We dread writing the words that we know would certainly hurt us.

We are scared to swim in the oceans because we fear the depth. We are worried of the height as we look down from the top of a mountain. We are frightened of strangers because we lack trust in people. We are even startled by an alarm clock on a Sunday morning, when it wasn’t supposed to have rung. We are deprived of relief and liberty because we fear too much.

Why?

Just because we are deprived of an eraser in our lives now? Funny how something that we disliked so much in our childhood, something that we kept losing time and again because we did not know its importance, has avenged its existence to the fullest today. We still keep writing on the pages of our books, we keep drawing lines between certainty and ambiguity, we keep folding some pages to remember their presence, and we keep tearing some in the hope of discarding them. But deep down, we’re all aware of the truth that we’ve been denying.

Words once etched cannot be erased.

[goldensightlines]

Fiercely Protective

I thought it happened again

and it didn’t cause me to stir 

as I often predict the fall of patterns

There’s something about pale eyes

that pulls you in

and causes drowning

but it’s safer to get lost

in the waves

instead of fire

Imitations hold weight

with the heat of flesh 

Quick to see the worst 

when there’s a point of difference

it’s hard to decipher blurred lines

written twice over

ruined from the rain

[goldensightlines]

You dot your sentences with inflections

that make me laugh

at the most simple day to day interactions

[dontmissthesilverlining-blog]

There are times when so many changes seem to take place within ourselves, over a single day. There are days when we want to let ourselves loose, so we can lose ourselves in the beauty that has risen beyond these self-constricting fences we built for self-protection. We know that different parts of ourselves want different things. We know that some leaves and flowers that had blossomed the last time are now withered because we let them. We also know that the walls around us had spaces to let us escape, until we let somebody else fix iron rods there to shut them.

Now, as we stand behind these rods, holding onto them as firmly as we can, we see different parts of ourselves outside- some withered, some ready to shed their weight and give up, whereas some as strong as a bark of a tree.

We can see those fences we had once erected, now at a distance. It dawns upon us that they were brittle and not enormous enough to shield us from all that we feared. And we decide to raise walls larger than we could imagine, but when we are free. We end up fantasizing about what we’d do the next time. But we fail to figure out ways to break through those rods that bind us into a dark room, deny us our freedom to climb trees and swim oceans, like we had planned until someone climbed over our fences and shut us inside. We repeat the same mistakes we did the last time we were shut behind rods of a different room, as we sat planning about the foundations of the fences we would build. Had we thought of melting the rods and wandering amid dandelions on a bright summer day, not bothered of what we’d do next, maybe we could have saved ourselves from a prison of our own thoughts.