Another one of those days, When your eyes look heavier.
I wish I could slip in from behind, kiss you on your shoulder and tell you how things would fall in place.
I remember the first time you had cried infront of me. How I had held you like a baby and how in the end, out of all things, When everything was falling apart, You had whispered an I love you.
When the next day you told me, That no one knows how you break at times, And how loud in grief ; you cry in silence, A fear had built in me. I promised to take care of you.
But today, when you are as wilted as a decade old summer flower, And inspite of me loving you a little more than the moon and stars, I can't even call out your name. Forget about anything else.
I worry about how people around you are ignorant about you. I wish I could reach you out and walk with you through the storms, But now, your and my skies are unaware of each other's existence And the sunset in my sky feels like a new goodbye everyday.
//.....Woh jahan durr jisse gaye the nikal Phir se yaadon ne kar di hai jaise pehel//
We had walked away on different paths long time ago. But every step I take on this lonely road, I wish you would magically walk back from the other side, come and hold my hands and tell me, " I missed you" - like you did everytime, your voice deep and soft.
We could walk together for some more distance and I would tell, how this feels so much better with you. The unknown streets would start feeling familiar, and every strange road would feel home - because your heart would be calm, and in love - and mostly, at peace.
But for some reason, the day would end, The sun would set, and our grey glooms would share the same horizon with the blue and pastel sunset sky. Time would fly....
//Lamha beet ta huwa Dil dhukata raha Khamakha bewajah khwaab bunta raha//
The nightfall would arrive and you would be gone with the sunset and merge in the darkness. I would be left alone, cold, once again.
Standing on the parched roads, with a withered forget-me-not in my hand, I would write another poetry in your name. (Or maybe just stare at the void of your absence.)
//Jaane kiski humein lag gayi hai nazar Is shehar mein na apna thikana raha//
I decided to leave behind everything. This place feels so familiar and strange at the same time and I find no ground nor any home here. I would keep you alive in me, in my words. I promise you that. You are too precious to be forgotten and unloving you would be the worse kind of heartbreak.
//Durr chahat se main apni chalta raha Bujh gayi aag thi Daag jalta raha//
I know it won't be easy. But when did I ever choose the easier way to love?
If you happen to enter my room, it would reek of sadness. Loneliness would once in a while hit you, like blowing wind and linger within you, long after it passes away. You would smell burning papers while ashes settle on your skin and a salty smell of dampness hidden within every fabric of the linens would prick you. Pasts would be decaying in a corner and I would be trying desperately to preserve it. The sky outside would be dark and the world a busy place, isolating me out.
. . .
I stare at the world outside on days when I'm too tired of all these cycles. I reach the window, and pause to look at the people too occupied within their life, rushing everywhere, reaching nowhere.
I step back and lie on my bed. I stare at the ceiling. So lifeless and still. I wish it were a person beside me lying right now, caressing my hair, asking me how my day was.
I wish it weren't the rancid aftertaste of bitterness and grime stains of all the gloom. I wish it were lavender fragrance of love and happy gossips of coy forehead kisses that flutter like tiny butterflies amidst the green lemon grass fields.
I wish you could see something else when you would meet me, instead of what you would see.
In the fading memories - wrapped in the lyrics of a song, you appear, like a gentle storm. You kiss my forehead with all the lost love I miss. I shed a tear, you wipe them away, I smile a little, you smile wider. Peace gets stolen and replaced, while you keep drifting away like a dying star. All the words I don't speak, I wish to write them to you someday. Holding my hands, pulling me in, you keep taking me away to a world of hynotic feelings, beyond all the beautiful things. As the dawn breaks in and darkness dies in between, you are about to vanish like another incomplete dream. You warn me with your silent eyes - to let you go. And if possible, this time, forever. I keep my fingertips on the curve of your lips, close my eyes and lean in to your beating heart. Something between a sorry and a goodbye leaves your lips.
The heartbeat gets dull, a distant thumping . And then the song ends, like another beautiful dream.
Trickles of anxiety run down your skin. Citylights gleam under your tears and you blink them away. That was the only moment of you, about to breakdown. But you hold up.
While others talk, and tell their love stories, you hide yours. You don't want them to hate the person you loved once and you don't want them to love the person who left you, all at once.
All these torn apart thoughts and chaotic feelings you bury and burst, all the times you heal and hurt, the long empty stares at the starless dark skies - keeps you stuck in a place, where no one finds your soul anymore.
You lose it part by part- in little scattered pieces - and sometimes - the whole of the heart -all at once. And all you do is lose yourself because things that make you find yourself have lost their way. And the ones that found you, fail to seep into your tragic heart, because you find the darkness comforting, between all the bright stars. You weren't like this always. You don't know when you had turned into someone who held onto all the dark sides and never even noticed it, because you were always a good observer for as long as you remember.
Two hours has passed. And just like that, you realise, you were again lost in that vicious world, too deep - to notice the drifting time killing your present - part by part. And one day in the end, it will be all that will remain of you. And you fear that.
I know that you do not exist in this world as of right now. However the Many Worlds theory of quantum physics argues that everything that can happen, will happen; across infinite alternate realities. So think of this as a love letter across parallel universes, from a universe where you don't exist to a universe where you do. And maybe, just maybe there's a world where I only exist in your mind, just as you do to me right now. As you can see, lately I've been using science as a foil to fight my inner conflicts and shakespearean dilemmas. Hamlet would've found schrödinger's thought experiment very intriguing, to say the least. The idea of being both alive and dead would've really appealed to him. Perhaps to be and not to be is the answer. ...I don't know what I'm trying to prove here. I don't even know what I'm trying to say. What I can, however, attempt is to embody you as a stand-in for every writer who has left this platform. It's equally baffling as all the schrödinger's hypotheses. You are here, yet..you aren't. Like an empty set, a space enclosed by set brackets. A sense of superposition seeps in your deactivatedness, of both being and unbeing. I get it, this tiny universe of ours has changed. For better or for worse, that is subjective. What started off as a farm where we plucked ripe words that fell off from the old yet growing branches of feelings, is slightly becoming more..commercialised, more mass-produced, pumping out processed wordy poems without any heart to dictate them. And this is precisely why I ask you to return. Once, the nib of my favourite pen had broken. I had the nib alone replaced, of course, but the question still lingered- is this still the pen that I'd known and loved? Will its barren iridium tip embrace the world of paper and dreams, will it become fertile with ink again? I didn't know the answer then, but I did come to understand much later that the pen is merely a consequence, a cultural medium that is dependent on the hands of its holder. I think it's fair to say that the same applies to this world of ours too. And I think I'm coming to understand why this place now has a "quill" in its name and a pen nib as its symbol. Just because there's a difference in the way it used to be, doesn't mean that it's still not our world anymore. I might even go so far as to say that our attitude towards this world has changed much more than the place actually did. Places don't change, people and feelings do. So please come home.
Of course in the realm of overarching possibilities, cannot-ness cannot exist. I'm quite confident that the possibility of you returning, can happen. I can only hope that it will. Yours, @wine_mirrors
"What do you know about bipolar disorder?” I almost say, What do you know about it? But I make myself breathe and smile. My voice sounds flat and even. Maybe a little bored, even though my mind and body are on alert. “Some people call it manic depression. It’s a brain disorder that causes extreme shifts in mood and energy. It runs in families, but it can be treated.” I continue to breathe, even if I’m not smiling anymore, but here is what is happening: my brain and my heart are pounding out different rhythms; my hands are turning cold and the back of my neck is turning hot; my throat has gone completely dry. The thing I know about bipolar disorder is that it’s a label. Even though I'm sleeping again, everything still feels a little rickety, like I'm here but not quite here, like I'm just a stand-in for my real self, like someone could just reach over and pinch me and I'd deflate. I thought I was feeling better, but I don't know anymore. As my brain wants to kill your soul. I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history. Because with every day that goes by, my heart is hurting, I think the road has end. I feel myself becoming more and more invisible...
//Take my mind And take my pain Like an empty bottle takes the rain And heal, heal, heal, heal And take my past And take my sense Like an empty sail takes the wind And heal, heal, heal, heal And tell me somethings last//