Sometimes, I want to Stop breathing For a while, And find out If not having oxygen Flood my lungs Hurts worse than Not having you Beside me. Sometimes, I want to Break a glass, And walk on the Shattered pieces, To find out If broken glass Hurts worse than A broken heart. Sometimes, I want to Rip open my skin With a blade, To find out If I
As you lie down Over the smooth green grass That lightly tickles your waist, Counting stars And brooding over the largely dissatisfying day; And the goals unachieved. About the meeting that failed because you ended up messing your schedule. Of your mother’s birthday that you forgot because you were too stressed last night. Of the fly that landed in your soup making you feel queasy, because of which you didn’t
Love, like matter, Can neither be created, Nor destroyed. We are born, Filled to the brink with love, And spend all our lives Trying to pour it out Into someone Who had loved A little too much, And were now left A little too empty. Or into someone, Who has been loved A little too less. Love is like matter. Even though it can Neither be created nor destroyed,
It’s funny, How we thank god Every time people die in a calamity, That it wasn’t us. As if their lives somehow mattered Slightly less than ours do. As if even though we come home To a lonely apartment every evening, With no one to strip us down And breathe in our nakedness, They were somehow lonelier than us. It’s funny, How the numbers On the headlines next morning,
He wants to create windows in the walls of my heart, and I tell him that my heart isn’t his home anymore He pleads. He pleads, again. I tell him that it took my blood years to wash his footsteps from the floor of my heart. He keeps the roses beside my bed. I tell him that I don’t know how to breathe the fragrance of the roses anymore.
Life was monotonous. Same old routine, same old work. Until he came. Four furry little legs. One look and we became the best of friends. He messed up my life. Turned it upside-down. But for once I was happy. I had something to look forward to. Everyday. Fetch-The-Ball and Roll-In-Mud. He taught me what freedom was. He taught me how to live. How to live in the moment. Chase-the-butterflies. Watch-the-sunset.
The odour Of your departure, Lingers in the air, Your broken promises, Float in front Of my eyes, I reach out, And curl my fist Around a few of them, And desperately shove them Inside my mouth, But they dissolve To nothingness On my tongue, And I’m left With the taste Of your sweet lies. Strength comes knocking Once in a while, But the heartbreak That always seems to
In this moment, you and I are cities, vessels of longing and fuming passions. In this moment, I am counting the minutes to your next phone call, the hours to your mellow refrains, and the days to our meeting as lovers. I’ve forgotten how long we shook hands that day. I’ve forgotten if I’d turned around to look back while you walked away. All these months later, I
We stand, on the opposite banks of a river, We know not, how to swim, We can just stare, at each other, Longing for words, to come out, Of our forlorn mouths. There’s a ferry, Connecting the banks, The ferryman, a shrinking bag of bones, Takes turns looking at us. The fee he demands, Is not for us to pay, It’s too high, too vain. He demands acceptance,