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

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Autumn was crammed carelessly
On the shelf of Transition
Where she sat, uncomfortably,
Between hurts and healing.

***

There is barely enough leg space
On the days I want climb up the shelf
And look down at the world below;
Humans appear less condescending,
Less selfish,
Less ignorant.
They usually do not.

***
Between Summers and Winters,
I was Autumn –
A phase.
My transient words sound like lies,
Once mixed with spirits.
So I pour it back and fasten the cork –
I am inebriation,
Wrapped in innocent banter.

***
Autumn was a paramour
Dangling from wires of
Maybes and probablys…

…Hoping its crimson
Would mean something
Someday…

8 October 2017

Fingers

Fingers

Your fingers in
May
Had more frost
Than mine could in December.

Even when you clipped
The wings off the
Dying butterfly,
I echoed
Your callous laughter,
Not realising, that when your fingers
Graze down my spine
They are searching for
Other fragile wings
To tear apart.

I have felt
Your fingers inside me
Curl into a question mark,
Searching for answers
Between my thighs…

Did they pause in astonishment…?
Did they not know
Of wings that find a way
To bleed from
The tiniest cracks…?

Your fingers…

Played me.
Berated me.
Unmade me.

In my humiliation,
I chopped off mine.

 

6 October 2017

 

(image courtesy: @petitesluxures)

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

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

Lullabies and Lovesongs

Lullabies and Lovesongs

In a cesspool of decaying horrors,
Should I remain adrift?
Or sink?
You have decked me up like one of
Your
Miniature dolls,
And left me
On the shelf.

Why are you fading away?

By midnight, I grew tired
Picking pins from
My hands
So I don’t scratch off my dreams
In my sleep.

Are you leaving me to go to the other side?

An artist on the streets,
Performing contradictory feats
How long should I remain adrift in vain?
I quote dead poets in sighs
While my lovers stare, surprised;
I’m a shapeshifter, altering my skin.

Should you go away, love?

There is a song, stuck in my mind
And I’m trying to buy more time –
Trying…
Trying…

Dying.

21 June 2017

Ellipsis

Ellipsis

Storms.

I’m gulping mouthful of lies,
Clinging on to a fistful of hope
Like dew drops on mangled spider webs,
I’m decorating my

Sores.

Each night, when I pull over
My thin sheets
I’m trying to hide
My invisible scars
That won’t stop resurfacing
In nightmares of old cassette reels,
Crammed of delectable

Heartbreaks.

Old habits swing on uneasy strings.
Broken clockworks sing no tune;
At wee hours of dawn,
I’ve forgotten what
Ambiguous skies look like
Since fear made me
Close my windows.
Every autumn, I’m
Erasing your imprints from my

Blackboard.

Dithering,
As showers in Spring
I’ve lost count of months
And your name is a distant
Ring, woven of forgotten thunderclaps
In untimely rain

22 April 2017