Obsession

Pic courtesy: outinleftfield.com

It squeezes your heart

Until your mouth goes dry

And your hands quiver

In futile anticipation.

This longing so strong

For a lost season

Of laughter and caresses,

Tears, bitter and true.

Sadness is a burden

That weighs down your heart

Until your shoulders droop

And your smile is but a shadow.

Guilt is a dagger

That stabs into the depths of your soul.

Repentance, you seek.

Denial comes quick and sure.

Watching, waiting,

Stalking with your thoughts,

You create a new world

Of the shards of broken dreams.

Finding my space

A promise to the self is perhaps one of the first things we tend to push aside when prioritising the to-do list. I am a compulsive list-maker: from shopping lists to separate task lists on my mobile and computer and little bits of paper tucked away in various drawers at home, I have lists in all shapes, sizes and forms. In all those lists, things I have to do just for me, with no benefits to anyone else (except indirectly perhaps; as in since I'm happy and smiling, everyone around me feels better and so on and so forth), are always sidelined.

Happy Solitude/www.fineartamerica.com

This is not to say I am one of those self-sacrificing types. Nope, I do have my indulgences but inevitably, when I am listing things out, those made-in-the-mind promises to myself take a back seat. I've been meaning to write more than 200 words a day (apart from work, even if not specifically on my book), notwithstanding status updates and tweets. I've been meaning to finalise my solitude trip: the idea is to go away by myself for a week or two; the trip is meant to do multiple things--some alone time so that I can think clearly, bring out the Muse, etc etc. I've been meaning to meditate. See, these are the kind of things that often gets lost by the wayside as life moves ahead on the fast track.

This, despite the fact that I have a very supportive group of family and friends! So you see, I don't even have anyone else to blame! For now, I'm blaming it on the lazy, rainy weather. Coming back to the to-do list, I am making a new one now: a timeline this time, for fulfilling all my dreamy goals.

A Story. In a Story

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They burst into vibrant life
In the depths of my consciousness.
And I struggle to capture them
Before they dissipate into the veils of my mind.
Even as I write,
They twist the plot as they please.
Telling me it's not mine
To control their destiny.
I tell them, they have to conform
To fit in with my storyline.
No, they say, why don't you
Pen our tales instead?
No, I insist stubbornly
Even as the figments of my imagination
Create a world of their own,
With neat little houses and orderly lifestyles.
Desperate, I play the God card
And add a touch of misfortune,
A wind gone crazy
Or a man gone mean.
And they come scurrying back to me,
Pleading for their lives.
Gloating, I wait awhile
Before I let them have it all.
My way, of course.

Stranger in The Mirror

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The heart skips a beat
At the mention of a name,
Or the whiff of a fragrance
Deeply-loved and long-lost,
The scrap of a tattered love note
Tucked into books that you don't dare open.

But you cannot show you care.
Not any more.
You look to the needs of your family,
Which shrouds you in a cocoon of love
So tight, you dread the tender silken threads
Will unravel at the sharp edges
Hidden in the mysteries of your secret smile.

A passion hidden in your heart
Is safe in its crimson confines.
A love hidden from the world
Is never ridiculed.
You hold it tight as your veins are flooded
With the strength of a love so intense
You feel your heart will burst.
You are sure the world can hear
As your heart does its tumultuous leaps.

But you must hold on. Tight.
For fear of the labels.
Home-breaker. Adulterer. And more.
For fear of the pain
You foresee in the trusting eyes of your little ones.
For fear of your partner's look
Of absolute disbelief. And the sound of his heart
Splintering into shards that pierce you.

And you go on. Forever afraid
Of whispering the wrong name in the dark.

While I Wait

Warning: I haven't written poetry in so long I'm not sure this attempt will be a pretty one. Proceed at your own risk. :)

Courtesy: myyearbook.com

While I wait
I think back and remember
The way your hands enveloped mine;
Always as if my fingers were petals fragile.

While I wait
I hope you think of me too
When the skies open up with melancholy showers.
A snuggle under the covers!

While I wait
I hope you have moved on,
Made your peace with your inner demons,
And are not afraid of Life any more.

While I wait
I hope you haven't moved on
From thoughts of me and all our bittersweet memories.
Would that make me narcissistic or simply selfish?

While I wait
I will myself to be all-giving
As you were in another life,
Letting me fly while you wallowed in misery.

While I wait, I pine.