Boundless

He talks in his sleep. He giggles when he knows he's being naughty. Imitates me when I chastise him. When i ask him for a kiss, he bites me and masks it with a 'mmmma'. He hides behind curtains and plays with saucepans, he throws his toys in the washing machine and makes calls from his Acha's phone. He loves Mabatham (Mahabharatam) and is spellbound by advertisements. He responds to chattambi, saying njan njan and loves sipping chai from his grandpa's cup. He teases his grandma, follows his acha around the house saying tatai, helps me make dosas.

I'm learning new words. Discovering new worlds. As I follow the pitter-patter of his little feet, I'm learning how to run again.

We'll sit on the doorstep
at half past 3 am
And talk about forever
over bittersweet coffee.
That is what I always thought
We would be.

But I find myself, more often than not
Slipping into silence and needless tears
I'm that silly princess who let her tears
Slowly turn her heart into stone
And I find myself racing past memories
To stop being captured by time.

One day when my heart stops chanting
That familiar rhythm
Instead slipping into the dull echo of existence.
It will take all your heart
To thaw what's frozen inside.
Will you kiss me mid-sentence
Or will you never know?

One day my silence
Will call for a long hug
without any need for
explanations
Will you write me poems with your lips
Or will you let go?

Crash and burn

How do you die
Inch by inch
Cell by cell.
Do your atoms crash and burn
That being scientifically impossible.

It is not physically dying, I know
Just your being ceasing to be.
It is when that thing deep in your soul
Whose voice lifts your day
It is when the voice stops its song
That you notice you are no longer you
Just a shadow where you used to be.

Your dreams are ashes blown in the wind
Your tears are rivers you cried dry
You have left behind that shell
Of faith, and things that loved.

Some days he is thunder. And some days he is rain. Thunder more than rain. There are days when he rumbles, when the echoes send tremors through her very being. And then comes rain, unexpected. The torrents wash over her and set her free. Her world is happiest in those misty, sepia toned evenings. Now, she waits, her soul parched. For there has neither been rain nor thunder. It doesn't occur to her even for a moment that her season of glory has ended, that she might never know another one like that. And so she waits, waits, waits. There is no tragedy quite like love that believes in the impossible.

Leaving you behind is not easy
It never was, never will be.
There are moments when sadness,
in all its infinity
weighs me down
and I cannot go forward
for your memories are carved in my soul

Knowing that I cannot change my fate,
I still return to yesterdays
You are still the most vivid memory I have
Strong, defiant, and somewhat flawed
I cannot reach you, and take your hand again
I cannot tell you how much it meant
To have someone like you.

If I could rewrite yesterdays
With penstrokes and wishful thinking
I would still etch you as you were
But maybe I would color your world
In more hues than you ever knew.

And in this moment, I know
I can write tomorrows with my ache
I have in me a lifetime of bittersweet memories
Of knowing that you've cared
I wish to bestow that same wonder
and a lifetime of dreams and love
Before I am gone.

And at times I'm too scared to stop breathing, scared that I won't hear my heart beat in the silence.

Dreamcatcher

She walked the empty streets, in search of dreams that weren't hers. It had been ages since she had dreamt. She liked this life, because she could be alone with her thoughts and watch lonely people dream. They didn't know how lucky they were, for they still had dreams left inside them. Dreams of sunsets and still waters and colors and joy. Dreams that sometimes terrified her. She walked the empty sea shores, the dim-lit streets, the vacant roads, and found herself hold those dreams close. She didn't know if it was a gift or a curse.

She had overslept again. She found him watching her and panicked. Until he asked, "Been dreaming again? You look so tired!"

He would never be able to appreciate the irony.For her dreamless nights were full of other people's dreams.

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