Of Nostalgia And The Night Sky.

Even if everything else falls apart, the moon will still be exceptionally beautiful on dark nights. The stars will still glimmer, teasing you, reminding you of the naive dreams you once had to capture the night sky into a glass jar to keep by your bed side- dreams that you have long since labelled ‘impossible’ and discarded. The night will bring with it nostalgia and memories you cannot escape from, memories of the boy who smelt like lemons and winter, frosty to the touch, or the girl with autumn leaves in her hair whose dark eyes showed you light the sun never could. Try all you might, squeezing your eyes close so tightly you see galaxies on the inside of your lids, but you will not be able to rid your mind of images of the people who gave you their all, putting their hearts in the palms of your hands, only to have you throw them all away ruthlessly. It’ll come back to haunt you now, how you broke them into a million pieces, but you’ll still feel no regret, you’ll feel no pain.
So climb onto the roof with your pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and try to smoke away the emptiness in vain, because the worst is yet to come.

Feelings and Colors: Pt. 1

5 stages of grief.

1. I paint the brightest shade of orange all over my lids with messy strokes and multiple coats to block away the deep purple of loss, but it comes back to haunt me in my sleep every night where there is no orange, but only the deepest, darkest purple.

2. I pour black all over my heart and it burns out the red passion I used to hold, turning it into an anger that is insatiable, an anger that does not lessen. I have broken my mother’s best china and smashed the table that held my snow globes. I have not slept for ages now. My eyes burn as I stare at the blank wall, my soul burns away thread by thread as the black swallows the purple.

3. The black fades to a pale, sickly brown, and I pray to whoever and whatever may listen to rewind time and let me hear you laugh one more time. Please, I say. Please, I scream, and I scream until my voice gives out and the neighbors look through flicking curtains to find the banshee, but all that I hear is the taunting silence of the universe.

4. My heart and fingers turn into a velvety cobalt blue, and it slowly travels until I am blue all over, from the tips of my hair to the nails of my feet, and I play with fire to drive it away, and I play with sharp objects to cut it away, but even the scabs that form are blue, and the scars left behind are blue. I don’t think it will ever go away, I’m a girl of blue ice who can never get to fire in time ever again.

5. My heart is the palest shade of copper now, and I know I’m not the first person the universe has thrown off the edge of the world. I know I will not be the last. Life will forever go on as it always has because we’re just tiny ideas occupying borrowed space in the void of the universe, and that’s exactly how it is supposed to be.


Image taken from here.

I Will Not Apologize.

The sun apologizing for burning too bright,
It has never been heard of;
The moon apologizing for days when it must hide away,
It has never been heard of;
The stars apologizing for their incessant twinkling,
It has never been heard of;
The clouds apologizing for veiling the sky’s blue with their cottony embrace,
It has never been heard of;
The mountains apologizing for marring the earth with their magnificence,
It has never been heard of;
The sea apologizing for churning too chaotically;
It has never been heard of;
Why then, my dear,
Must I apologize
For burning as bright as the sun,
And then hiding away like the moon,
For eyes that twinkle like the stars,
But are veiled the very next moment,
For standing tall and magnificent,
With tornadoes raging inside me,
Why must I apologize for my greatness,
When I was born with universes inside of me,
Bursting to be let out?
And if it is too much for you to take in,
I will not apologize for being who I am,
You can go waste your time away
You can go
Find another puppet.


Image taken from here.

Old Times’ Sake.

If you must act so insolently

Just because my blue skies

Are now grey thunderstorms

You cannot bear the sound of,

Please continue,

Only remember that even today,

If you were to hand me a cup of poison,

I would gladly drink it for old times’ sake.


Painting: “Sophonisba Receiving the Poisoned Cup” by Rembrandt.

Second Loves And What They Feel Like.

Falling in love for the first time is like being an adrenaline junkie and jumping off a cliff, full of naive courage and only thinking of the wind rushing through your hair. But your second love is harder because as you lay there on the sharp rocks, the adrenaline of the flight down wearing off and your body battered, bruised and bleeding, you’ll promise yourself to never go through anything that risky, that damaging ever again, because it’s just not worth it. 

The ecstasy is not worth the pain.

You’ll promise yourself to never let your fragile heart in someone else’s ruthless palms ever again after seeing it smash down onto the rocks and scatter into a million pieces, and as the water will start to rise, tides lapping up the shore, at first the cool water will feel good on your broken body until you’ll realize it’s pulling you out to sea now, and you’ll hold on to whatever rocks you can, cutting your hands and making rivulets of blood flow down your arms, to keep yourself from going into the water because you know you won’t be able to keep afloat, but the water is strong, and you are not, and now you’re in the water with no more energy. You’ll stop fighting, and go under water, but you will not drown. You’ll sink to the bottom of the sea, and sometimes swallow salty sea water that burns down your throat, but you’ll be alive, and you’ll be more alive than you’ll have ever been, sitting on the seabed with the fishes around you, and you’ll realize that maybe you thought yourself stupid for thinking you’d be one of those who found their wings on the way down from the cliff and flew off into glorious sunsets, but you’ll know you were stupid for fighting the water when you’ll find that you can breathe in the sea easier than you did in the purest of air. This is where you were meant to be, and you know now that anything can happen.

You believe again.

This is what your second love is like.


Image taken from here.

Hemophobia

“No matter how much you think you love somebody, you’ll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close.” ― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters.

There are times I doubt you love me but even if you do, it doesn’t matter, because I’m a bleeding mess, and no matter how much you try, you’ll never get over your fear of blood. You can try and put up a brave facade all you want my dear, it’s quite endearing to be honest, but you don’t deserve this. You deserve sunshine and flowers, and a girl who smells like strawberries and happiness, not misery and broken pieces. If you have any idea of what’s good for you, you should turn around and leave right now. Because you will someday. Rather sooner than later when it’s easier for both of us, because you will turn away, no matter how vehemently you deny that right now; once my pool of blood starts growing bigger and bigger, you will start stepping back, and you will keep on stepping to avoid the blood, until all my blood will have left the veins it was supposed to flow in, and you will be too far a speck in the distance to see my fall.

A Sky Full Of Stars

In a sky full of stars,

I think I saw you,

But then haven’t I

Been seeing you everywhere?

In strangers on the streets,

And in captivating sunsets,

Never more captivating

Than your sleepy eyes ever were,

And in calming blue waves

Never more soothing than the sound of your voice;

Waves which might rage in turmoil

But will never exceed the ravaging of my heart,

In your absence.

And I saw your outline in the cloudy day sky,

I heard you laughing in my thoughts,

The sound as clear as ever,

And I’ve been seeing you everywhere I see beauty

So why should the clear night sky,

Be an exception to my

Melancholy

Heartbreak?

Sleepless Insanity.

It is said those who don’t sleep

Confuse dream with reality.

First you took away my sleep,

And now you’re clutching at my sanity.


Image credits: Tauba Auerbach

Off To Sleep.

There comes a moment right before I fall asleep, when I believe that if I just stop breathing then, I could loose myself in the oblivion forever and quietly sail away from the chaos of it all; I see myself on the shore, I see the tiny boat quietly rocking in the waves, waiting to take me away and I can almost feel the cool respite the waves offer, beckoning me towards them, and I walk forward, but just as I am about to step into them, I catch sight of your face and falter, and that moment of vulnerability is all it takes for you to whisk me away from the beach and the boat and my escape, off to the safety of sleep.

And I wake up each morning cursing you, but a part of me is relieved; the pessimist in me is given enough hope to go through another day and I am almost eaten with fear that one day, you will not be there to stop me and I will finally sail away.

Happiness?

Lately, I’ve noticed happiness creeping in,
Stealthily,
Quietly.
I’m always too busy laughing to confront it,
To ask
Where it had been for the past few years,
Where it was when I needed it the most,
But suddenly, it is there
And its presence hits me in the face
In the middle of a laugh,
So hard that it takes me a minute or two,
To breath normally again.
It fills me up from the inside,
And I realize
I am content,
I am happy,
And when I say I’m fine,
For once,

I really mean it.