Mermaid

Mermaid

My edges, once sharp,
Blurred,
When I saw how melancholic your
Skies turned by evening.

I collected your clouds
In tiny satchels and paper bags
And read them like tarot cards –
Your face, in all its mirth,
Was paler than mine
In its sunset hues.

You should see,
How in my lunacy
I crave for your hands to lift my thoughts
And create little Plasticine dolls –
Do you know how much I’d give up,
To go up in smoke?

I dread on the days
My curtains weigh heavier than
The reproaches I hurl at myself
To make my skin bulletproof to your indifference.

I am a mermaid –
My body,
Is torn by halves
Into a minefield and the deep, blue sea.

18 January 2018

 

Image Courtesy: NVAL 2016 International Juried Photography Show Gold Selections“Trees with Birds” George Digalakis, Athens, Greece

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Wanderess

Wanderess

There was a girl who wanted
A ticket to the stars.
With a galaxy in her lungs, and peppermint eyes
She rummaged through dumpsters
Of ashen faces that spoke a bunch of decayed lies.
And on certain nights, she let out
A strangled cry.

She played with marbles,
And wholesome words
For which she apologized –
There was a girl with creepers of clichés,
And an obsessive need to spell her name
In case you missed the ‘Y’.
Her kisses tasted like echoes
And question marks from quoted lines.

Along the edge of a spider’s web
In an aquarium full of fireflies,
She smoked her lover’s cryptic words
Soaked, in a vat of contradictions.

We’re receding…receding…
To lilac Springs
In Technicolor,
And paper cranes
With broken wings.

28 December 2017

 

image courtesy: Sourav Chakraborty (https://www.facebook.com/Isglad?fref=hovercard&hc_location=chat)

Silence(d)

Silence(d)

I was sixteen when my mouth
Was forced open
With an unfamiliar tongue, dripping of lust;
Chapped lips,
Violently brushing against mine…

Hands.
Hands.
Hands.

I belched enough saliva,
As I watched my guilt trickle down the drain
To accumulate
In a cesspool
Of blood, tears and similar tales.

Buses, trams, metros…
Invisible hands.
Ghost hands.
Under my skirt.
On my breasts.
Around my hips.
Everyone. Wants. It.
A bit of it.
A lot of it.
ALL of it, if they could.
Devouring,
With eyes and leers and
Unsolicited hands up my thighs…

What do you even do with scars
That no make-up can hide?
I poured them
In cologne bottles
To put it away in a cool, dry place
At the back of my mind.

And we are urban fireflies
In a concrete jungle
With several, greedy hands,
Lusting to taste our light.

17 October 2017

Matryoshka

Matryoshka

The calm, unperturbed body
Is the first layer.
Perfect eyes, lips, skin.
Perfect clockwork smile.

Skin…

I peel off my skin with the kitchen knife sometimes
To make sure if I still reside
In me.
I make sure if my walls are soundproof,
My windows, bulletproof,
And my attic, decluttered and ready
To hide my chaos…

I have locked in my chaos
In the wardrobe of I am fine
In the iron trunk of I am exaggerating
In the bureau drawer of It’s just a phase.

It is not a phase.

By the time you have reached
The second layer,
You will try to second-guess the restlessness in my blank orbs,
You will try to figure out why I am a problem,
You will try to calculate the equation of my violent sobs.
But you will give up
At the third layer…

And I won’t blame you
For not even trying to venture
Into the fourth, fifth, sixth…
Because your eyes will speak what I have always known –
My mind is a barren land
Of plastic bag relationships and open sewers of insecurity.

But don’t you worry –
You will never go beyond the first layer
Anyway.

10 October 2017

Identities

Identities

I am a
Foil;

Malleable.
A little crushed,
Under the enormous weight

Of unfinished tales –
I can’t bear burdens;
My bones ache
With stardust and gunpowder

As I breathe.

I am a
Fragment;

Lost.
A discarded alphabet
From your directory
Of unmade beds.

Standing by your doorsteps,

I am a
Cadaver
And a
Cemetery;
I bury my own self.

5 October 2017

Voices

Voices

The night I lost my voice,
I remember how the sky looked.

I panicked, as I couldn’t recall
The last place
I had left it
For safekeeping.
Or was it there
As a keepsake (?)
With someone, who sang to me
On the nights I’d run out
Of spirits and excuses?

The night I lost my voice,
You were right there.

Unconcerned, indifferent.
A flimsy shadow with blurred outlines
That I had cautiously fortified
Like one of my trinkets
In the blue rusted box I should have discarded
When I still had the time…

The night I lost my voice,
I decided to slip into oblivion.

While a thousand voices caroused
And strayed,
I collected my syllables,
Wrapped them with care.

I remember, though, the colour of the air.

20 September 2017

Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman

On some days, it takes
Twenty odd minutes, that whiz past
Like twenty breezy seconds
To separate each limb,
Contorted itself into an intangible mess
That is my body,
Trying to make sense of the harsh, morning air.

On some days, my dark circles will scare you;
My concealer isn’t as effective as the insomnia
That painted them as I lay awake,
Twisting the same thoughts and trying to fit them
Into boxes with labels of
“This is what it should be like”
And
“This is what it ought to be”.

On some days, I’m crawling under the burden
Of your snide remarks and leers,
Your hungry eyes grazing my legs
When I walk past in short skirts;
My red lipstick
A ruse I worked
To mask my blanched lips
So you can’t tell I’m skipping meals.

On some days, I can’t be the Wonder Woman
I want to be

For
I
Am
Tired

My head is reeling under the pressure
Of the monsters creating havoc,
And all I want
Is to
Dissolve.

On some days, I cannot handle
Questions I know I’ll eventually find
Answers to.
But maybe today, is not the day.
On some days, I would like to tell you
That a part of me
Skims over the maybes of our undefined reality.
But all the roads have footprints
So I know I’m in a labyrinth without a map,
That I will find,
But maybe today, is not the day.

On some days, I’m only trying
To keep my head above
Or learning to dive in deep –
A mermaid to my circumstances,
I’m trying out all magic potions
To help me find my feet.

 

 

On the other days, I breathe.

 

 

27 July 2017