𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

When I was a kid

I wanted to grow up so fast,

be an adult, live life, carefree

and now that I’m entering adulthood

I don’t want to grow up.

Chaar diwari mein ban kar raha

Jo kal ka ghulam

Vo mere aane vale kal ke aage

Kyun hi ghutne tekega,

Kya lagte hai vo log mere

Jinki nazrein na dekh saki

Kaale aur safed se aage

Unke liye khaak kar diye

am I doomed to write

with fire around my fingers

and what of my soul?

will it be a puzzle always,

for me to decipher?

every puzzle peice has a different

color, upbringing, dream.

and past, what of it god?

Eleven year old me is running

as fast as she can, still.

her feet is all red,

covered in blood and blisters.

They’re everywhere god,

everywhere, every turn I take,

I find them standing before me

and they say my sadness is not big enough

compared to theirs, should it be big enough

for me to feel it, god?

should my sadness also learn

to shape itself according to them,

so that it can be felt?

past, god

it has its claws around my ribs

I can feel the cracks,

the sound of bones cracking,

muscles melting,

blood boiling yet my skin feels cold.

they tell me to ignore it,

to not feel it,

to be mature and deny it the permission

to affect me, is that possible god?

How will it ever leave me

if I don’t let it pass through me,

like a river,

waves crashing against my living heart?

this fire, god

I am courageous enough to cross it

with my bare feet,

Marti hoon rozana,

phir jeeti hoon thoda aur rozana.

Jeeti hoon rozana,

I can’t tell the difference

between if he’s telling me the truth

Or lying to me, anymore?

Does that mean my friendship

is near the end?

I’m afraid it’ll continue to be

superficial like this until

it runs out its course.

I often find myself

watching lovers being lovers

reading about lovers

writing about lovers

and being a lover,

sense myself

getting swept off my feet,

not able to maintain eye gaze,

the heartbeat racing with

the blind faith

the moment he holds

my hand and tells me

to look into his eyes

And I hold his face in

the red palms of my hands

and my soul perceives the certainty

of every atom inside me,

that I’ve found my purpose,

I feel like a wave of words,

sentences, sentiments,

art and its textures,

and royal literature

will overflow

out of my sheer existence.

Certainly, I’ll be drowning

and then somehow

I’ll finally be able to

read between the lines

bistar kal ka bana hua tha

aur main bhi

na bistar Sameta,

na khud ko

bas jaise the

vaise hi shukar-vaar

Har koi jaane ki baat

kyun karta hai?

Har kisi ko jaane ki

jaldi hai?

Kaha jaana hai?

Kyon jaana hai?

Kya koi intezaar

kar raha hai tumhara,

ya tumhe kisi ka intezaar hai?

kya jo ab yahan hai

vo kaafi nahi?

Jahan jaana chahte ho

Kya wahan aisa sukoon milega?

Wahan pauch jaoge

toh yaha ko yaad karoge?

jaana, thahroge kab?

-iss ghar ko kaun paalega phir,

jise piche chord kar aage bhadh

I had nothing more to say to him

so instead I wrote him a letter.

I don’t know what to do

with all the love I have for him,

where shall I put it?

for now it rests

in the heart of my palms

hoping for him to hold them back,

Every conversation we have

neend ka sitam kuch yunh hai,

hosh nahi kab teen baj jaate hai,

aankhein aasman takti hai,

lafzon par is kadar

khamoshi ke taale pad jaate hai

karn sadak par bajati lathi se

We aren’t us anymore.

It’s been 1 year, 9 months and 22 days

since we stopped being us,

yet you still show up in my dreams.

I still love the idea of you

but in reality I fear the thought

of facing you and my racing heartbeat.

do you know,

we still hold hands in my dreams?

I don’t think much about you now,

yet you are the only one

We used to be us,

now he’s with someone else.

Although he’s still

holding onto my hand

but I’m afraid

that this time

dard ka yahi dard hai

na tumhara dil

mehsoos kar sakta hai

hamara dard

aur na hamara jism

tumhara iztiraab zard,

kar sakte hai bayaan

Every time

I’m afraid of

something or someone again,

I’m back in the hole again.

–I hold myself back often

My heart is shaken

to reckon

what if someone saw

my skin in its natural habitat?