a little romance with life

Hush, dear child Hush dear child, now please don’t speak All these tales you make up, they’re worrying me Your daddy is tired, your mamma had a long day Please don’t frighten us with your scary tales Yes we love you, of course we care If he scares you, just stop going there Hush, dear child, quiet for a while Things will be better tomorrow, sleep, good night… Hush dear child, what are these things you say You’re at the school, not a place to play Don’t ask those questions, what have you learnt at home Good kids don’t talk like that, hush, no These are dirty things you tell, go rinse your mouth And don’t repeat them to your friends as you move about Hush dear child, it’ll be fine when you grow For now stay quiet, you don’t want the others to know… Hush dear child, now please don’t cry Your grandpa cares, but he doesn’t understand why Why this is happening to you, What is he supposed to do, Stay close to home, next to ma and pa Grandpa ...

Falling in love with someone who is not thinking of you Develop a new hate for technology, a pleasurable bitterness because you want to but don’t want to know when he last came online if he’s seen your messages, and how long ago You wish there was no way of knowing, maybe it would make this easier; Sit with your friends and pretend to care, but let your eye-balls roll every second towards the door, keep checking if it’s him; wander into conversations that have his name, or his best friend’s name, or his dog’s name, anything that would give a clue about whether he’s been thinking of you; listen intently, check if he is fine, is he calm? relaxed? Or does he have the look of a butcher who just killed for the first time? Take in the bitter taste of thoughts that tell you, No, he’s not thinking of you at all; question his heartlessness How he continues to walk straight, doesn’t even smile too much for you to think that maybe he’s hiding the hurt; give yours...

It was rose day yesterday and I couldn't stop thinking Whether I’m becoming too disagreeable a person to be with It would never make me happy to have fresh roses delivered at my doorstep At best, I’d appreciate the attempt at expressing one’s love At worst, I would cry for the roses who had to die So that this foolish man could express his feelings To a girl he claims to love But doesn't  know at all. 

Pick up a nameless insect The one right there, that flies by Minding its own business And hold it in your hands, Like a pearl in a shell But don’t give it a name yet, Now in your left hand hold its body Observe first its fight to escape Count the number of legs The flutter of the wings And think to yourself How ugly this thing is Then slowly with your right hand Pluck its first wing And blow it in the air Pretend like you didn’t hear The silent scream Feel big, and huge, and dangerous And tell this insect that this is a warning To its siblings and friends To never come close to you again, Observe again its attempt to escape, When it begins to settle a little Pluck its second wing And this time place it right next to the body To remind it that there is No escaping now Laugh and let it loose on the ground Watch it crawl across the floor And keep staring at it As it escapes foot-steps Heading towards some place And see if i...

Late night tips on how I should change myself You’re defensive No, I’m not And contradicting What, no! And unsure Maybe You cry too easy These are not tears You hurt too fast You don’t see my scars Try, it’s easy But it took me years.. No buts ..to get comfortable with myself Listen more But I’m tired Speak better Do you promise to understand? I fought a battle last summer Try this trick, it worked That’s great, but what if I’m in a Different war? You should be like me But then who will be like me?

Walking around with a broken heart There is not much to say Except the throat promises to burst any moment And the chest, it’s still figuring out what to do With all the space Now that the heart is recoiling and shrinking Hugging itself in the warm shower The pretense of being loved Despite the prickly broken-ness The lie of laughing a little too loudly Hoping someone will understand That the damn joke is just not funny Walking around with a broken heart Like carrying your severed arms in your mouth Dragging your broken legs in the burning sun Punctures, wounds that keep spilling The pain drips like water from a cracked drain Picking it up in glasses, you have a bag full of hurt Trying to clean up after the bleeding ruptures of your broken heart.

When you find yourself just an inch away from Falling in love with someone else Ignore the blush on your cheek, the punch in your heart And tell your friends as genuinely as you can That this is just the natural human curiosity to want to know another human To want to crawl under her skin and look at the world the way she does To want to see if the water tastes any different, when you take a sip from her glass; To check if your heart can still skip a beat; A test to see if it can break again, after years of being protected; Her eyes dare you every day to embrace a fire To enjoy it even when it threatens to burn you; It’s been years, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to ache For somebody else’s touch; You know her so well, you can complete her sentences And now the delicious feeling of being startled by an unexpected Gesture, remark, characteristic, joke The excitement of peeling off the layers, of discovering a new person, She’s beautiful, isn’t she? ...