Swirling Skirt Of Dancing Dragon

Bodies on the pavement 

Lifeless punctured blood-filled balloons

Panic struck trembling hands 

Try to revive the fallen pedestrian

Don’t talk about the motivations

Like cascading sand from a tightly clenched fist,

Whatever was left of him, slipped out of my heart.

As he sniggers over a drunk call - confessing deceit.

Plant Daffodils on my grave,

I feel merry at the sight of it.

Tombstone, a scripture of white marble,

On Moon nights, illuminating the cemetery.

Memorial carved in times new roman italic

“Don't be sad for she left too early

So like Icarus, you flapped your arms in the sky.

fluttering high … you reached out to me. 

9:30 this morning, I was still in bed. so were you. 

Talked like nothing happened, like I am mad at you 

for just not calling last night and I played along 

I was, indeed, mad at you for not calling last night. 

or the night before that and the one before and … 

A fortnight before I noticed you were typing a text to me

I didn’t get the text … I got the gist of your troublesome quandary 

If that was what you were writing, In that case… I got your message 

You had a radar to deduct my lies. Or maybe 

I deliberately gave my lies to you marked in bold "I am lying". 

You called my truth the truth and lies the lies, effortlessly

I sometimes wish I could have the same ability to decipher you. 

Love, love is impetuous and it shuts down the frontal cortex.

So it was love after all … huh? But bantering is not lovers play. 

The voice sitting on the fringe “Do you miss me? I miss you." 

Repudiation delayed, yet stern "No!" 

I am no Apollo to let you too near, I know you can’t fly 

Fastening feathers with wax can’t take you any high. 

So if I am to decide, I shall not entice or enamor. 

Thus with a heavy heart, I denied, No Icarus don’t come too close

Like Icarus, I was warned too,

Warned, don’t seek beyond the skies.

Like Icarus, I was enamored too,

On the surface, I am as the eye of a hurricane 

Peaceful and pretty. No hint of mutiny.

Inside my heart,  there is a hellfire 

I am in my Moon Castle today

In the Moon Town on this lunar-day

It is raining blood, not literally, though

On second guessing. Not yet I am sure. 

There are rain clouds lining my baby making box.

The “clouds” are thickening and the sun is going out of sight. 

So you may or may not know what I mean. 

It takes clitoris to feel how I feel. 

On a second thought maybe not! 

That would be quite a normative claim 

Though there are roughly half of us who cannot conceive

Ushered into an un-dynamic, barren land. No Chaos of hormones...

At Times, I like it on Moon Castel. 

It shakes with whiffs With every breeze

With little implication of a perhaps or a distant memory

Missing out on this roller coaster of the emotions

Nah! That’s not my cup of tea

I want to be wreaked by the sensations from every direction 

A hodge-podge of sloppy kisses and salty tears

An assortment Of mean-girlish side eye and giggly laughter

I am on the castle of the Touch- Me-Nots and the Hold-Me-Tights

Yeah! I am anger ridden and yet lovey-dovey

A bit of Slytherin and a bit Hufflepuff-ey 

I don’t keep track of how many Moons I passed over span of my life

However, the Moon town is cognisant to me  

No, I am not subjected to faith

I am subjected to something you like to call faith...

There is something dark 

So dark 

It creeps in at times and spread 

like rain water when it hits the ground 

It blankets every nook, every corner

of my mind with iniquity. 

At such times I struggle to justify to myself 

the vibration of every string

I am whispering to myself for the string to halt 

Stop stop stop. Stop existing 

I hate Entropy, you know, 

When Musk said “It’s not on our side”

I thought to myself: At last, someone understands me. 

I arrange things in a prudent order 

as an act of mutiny 

I know, I am not significant to the laws that govern the universe 

and my rebellion will not spark a revolution 

The sun will not sit on the beach with me to sip iced tea

It will keep fucking spinning

It is not about the sun, but me

I never claimed to be a  law abiding citizen of this ridiculous mad house. 

I like to think of myself as a solipsist 

Would it be too wrong if it is all about me?

I would like the strings to stop vibrating

and it is in my capacity as a solipsist

to make it halt. 

Zero Fucking Kelvin

If I am a solipsist I can do it

I have not figured out how, though. 

Today I stumbled across some old pictures. The dreaded nostalgia, that Ex who cheated on me back in March 2015. I dated him for a log time and that was not the first time he cheated. I had let it pass, back in those days he would beg with “sorry” and I in all naivety forgive. That is indeed something I will regret a while... 

I often asked him to set it right. Prove to me that it was nothing. He gave me the ultimate prove on 28th march 2015. I religiously remember the date, some dates are quite significant to us. That one date is to me. I don’t even remember any other date pertaining to “us”(the team) anymore. So this last time I walked away. Heartbroken. 

He calls me sometimes even now hiding it from his new person... I threaten him many times that I will tell her. And he begs me not to. It is kind of confusing and emotionally draining to talk to him at times. Every time I uncover a new layer of his past lies and feel angry. A few days back he was in front of my home he called me and sent me a picture of the outside, from outside.  I jumped out of my bed and as I walked through the door of my room it all came fresh, the lies the cheating, the betrayal. I walked back in my bed, that early morning and curled myself to sleep. 

Lately, he told me that the woman he cheated on me with, his now wife they married by the end of that very year, don’t even know that I was with him while they started going out together. When I had asked him back in March about the new friend he renounced knowing even her name. I had proof and soon it all came clear .... yelling fighting and breaking up over the phone the relationship that kinda started in 2007, over the fucking phone. I haven’t met him since neither I ever want to. After the fight, that day, it was over as he and she both deactivated all their social medias. He told me last month only she has had no clue and the guilt of that cheating is only his. I don’t know where I am going by mentioning this, it is just ironic to me. perhaps writing it is a bit therapeutic after seen the picture today. 

Pic Deleted 

The day when we went out with his friend and a few days after I read some objectionable messages he had sent to that very friend about me, before this day. He discounted those messages as “that’s how boys talk”. Ugh! I was so fucking naive. 

So as I saw this picture today I didn’t feel nostalgia I felt a threat, I felt if only I could go back in time shake up this smitten “teenage-ish girl” explain to her that forgiving a cheater is not going to fix it. He will cheat sooner or later again. It is not wrong that they say “Once a cheater always a cheater.”. 

Nevertheless, I envied one thing about this past version of me, that smile. I don’t smile effortlessly anymore. That cheating, that last one opened a void somewhere withing. That seem to be tearing over time. I fear that this smile fell into that void.