A Liar's Guide to the Dreams..

In the dead of the night, the dreams come in one by one. They cling to you with soft acceptance, and they know it all..

These are the dreams which leave a note of remembrance. They cling to our tongues like a bittersweet delight.

They feel familiar, though their flavour melts in the mouth... and taste distinctly unusual.

April 10, 2015

The Walk.

I know when you walk away.

I see you walk out, shoulders straight, head held high
Your pride walking two steps behind

We have not talked in a while.
It will all work out though
In the end, the little rings of smoke
That emanates from the end of that lit cigarette,
And two fingers twining around each other
In a desperate attempt to hold on to the moment

But then comes the moment
When skin is redundant

There is a long lane here
When I hear your footsteps
I look up
And see the face that is more familiar,
And dearer to me
Than myself

And I know that
You haven't returned to me.

No, you have simply come home.

July 22, 2014


I want to write poems around you
Find those simple words
Which keep on endlessly flowing
When I walk
With your hand loosely held in mine.

I want to sing songs.
Juvenile little ditties
Naughty rhythm
And gently sway
While I skip and dance to a strange melody.

I want to warm myself
Into you
Because I can feel the heat
Seeping through to my soul.

May 16, 2014

A Letter to the Lover of my Love

First of all,
I must beg you to
Love him.

For he deserves to be loved.


I hope you love him
Like you love you.
No, perhaps more,
If you don't love yourself enough.

Love him like the way he wants you to
Love him like the way he needs
Love him
It is important for you
You darling thing
To give yourself to his love

Somewhere in my love
I must have missed a part
Or a portion
Which remains to be filled
A little bit
That leaves the picture

And I urge you to
Finish it. Add the last dot.

Lover of my love
Love him like I did not.

April 05, 2014

The stairs of my house are now studded with memories and visions and dreams.

March 26, 2014

This is nice.

When you sit silently beside me, and the tension stretches like thick, stringy taffy.

This is nice. 

January 15, 2014

The Second Wave...

There are those times when you are wading in chest deep water and the first wave hits you on the face, because you forget to duck or jump. Within a few seconds, even before you have time to recover, the second one hits you. And you are thrown back.

Sometimes, we hurt each other, I go first, you follow. Or you go first, I follow. In short, we pierce each other's skin wherever possible.

Not that we are cruel people. No, no, no. We aren't cruel to others.

We are only cruel to the other.

I sing silently when you curse beneath your breath.

You laugh delightedly when I squirm.

And then you tell me tales of your dreams and I am mesmerized by them.

And I tell you... nothing.

I withdraw and run.

It's... appropriate.

And now there is silence between us. Not peace. Just this uncomfortable silence which threatens to eat us up whole.

And still I stare at the phone.