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.


Smoke and Fire.

Looking back now, I see we were every cliche love story ever gone wrong, and yet we weren’t even a love story, not even a story by far. All we ever were, were a few chapters of some cheap sad paperback called life where nothing works out right, where I wore multiple rose tinted glasses one over the other to stay in my dreamy, perfect world. A world in which one perfect rainy day, the universe would give me everything I’d ever wanted, and I’d be oh-so-glad for never giving up every time I looked at you; all the universe did was rip away my rose lens with such ferocity it left me with bleeding eyes and burning pupils, unblinking till I was more numb than my fingers on my favorite winter days, too numb to realize that we were slow dancing in a burning room, and now it’s too late to get out; all that’s left of us is smoke and fire, and a pile of charred bones on the ground, while somewhere, the universe laughs in its malevolence.

I once read somewhere that the dreamers are always the ones left locked up in gray walled rooms, while everyone else gets to ride off into their glorious sunset, and I remember scoffing at that, but here I am, suffocating and choking on my own ashes while you get the perfect world I’d always dreamed of.

And then people ask me why I don’t smile like I used to anymore.


Letters To The Dead.

Oh darling, I’ve heard them say life is about building bridges for someone without knowing if you’ll cross it with them, and every time I come across those words my heart almost stops to beat, and not in a good way either. If there’s one thing I’ve never wanted to be, it is selfish, but all these words do is tell me that this mourning, this grief that I have sunk into after laying you to rest is selfish, as if they expect me to be fine! What do they know about the fire in my heart, the hole in my gut? What do you know about the extent of my love, and now of my rage? I will not return, and neither will you; we were always filled with too much pride, too much ego to look beyond at anything else, but you never knew that, did you? You couldn’t see your own two feet because of that ego of yours, and it is what drove you to your ruin. No one knows anything at all about the sluggish blood that flows through my veins as if it were gasoline, burning the fire in my heart brighter and brighter every second, I cannot sleep, I cannot rest, all I can do is wait with bated breath for the beginning of your fall.

For you must know by now mon cher, everything that rises must face an equal fall. It is the law this universe swirls upon, and it will be the harbringer of your demise, my love.

Image credits: Shafaq Mujtaba

Some Nights.

Some nights you try to convince yourself that you never loved her, but that it was only the familiarity of her laughter in a room full of strangers which drew you in, that the twinkle in her eyes was only so endearing to you because it reminded you of the night sky, but then you get up to look out the window and all is dark, the moon has hidden behind a curtain of grey clouds and the stars seem to have dimmed and you laugh as you realize that even the universe doesn’t know what to do without her, how can you expect to be able to put yourself together ever again? And the moon peeks out guiltily from behind its veil at that moment, you start to miss her with a ferocity you never knew your tired bones held.

Image taken from here.
And Happy Valentines to ya’ll out there. 🙂


Daytime Ponderings.

They say everything we do,
Everything we say,
Is but,
An echo
Into the void,
The universe
(maybe they’re both
the same thing?)
And that it will
Come back to us one day,
But has any of us
Ever given a thought
To what if
We don’t want it back
By then?

I realize this is kind of ambiguous, so I thought I’d elaborate a bit. I mean to allude to the phenomenon (for lack of a better word) which most of us experience at least once in our lives (if I’m not wrong) that something we spent a long time chasing after comes to us of its own accord when we no longer desire it, no longer run after it.

Image taken from Tumblr.


Deprived Ramblings II

I’ve always wondered how the universe could be so cruel, pairing a dreamer with a realist, and as I look at the faint but clear moon at 3 PM on a sunny day, I realize, maybe the universe doesn’t know what it is doing at times either; the thought soothes my trampled heart, and maybe one day I will see prettier pictures in the eyes of people I would have never expected to be so vibrant, but for now your white and black grace is enough to make me reminisce of broken hopes and unfulfilled dreams through the haze of red-rimmed eyes and an aching heart.