mebal

कयी अरसे बाद तुम्हारा खत पड़ा खत पड़ा और दिल किया के कुछ लिख पाऊं शुरू ही किया था लिखना के दिल में एक दर्द उथा सालों पहले का वो नज़ारा उनकी लहराती ज़ुल्फ़ेन और सद की गिरफ़्त में लिप्टि हुई वो दोपहर कामरे में पहुचती एक ठिठुरती किरण बिना वजूद होए मजबूर दिल टूट सा गया और कुछ सोच पाते  कुछ लिख पाते उससे पहले ही दिल टूट गया और वो ख्याल गुज़र सा गया

I find most things not making sense anymore not anymore meaning Not any joy anymore then small joys erupt giving a sense of meaning and then your screams annoyed and displeasure erupts- causing a commotion a displeasure and the sense is gone no sense it makes no sense for you to choose to do this over and over and over And over – again The ripples – again lost sense – again so…

Silhouettes speak to me  An embrace  touches me below my skin Silhouettes feel like home tonight A yearning For times left uncherished Silhouettes becomes my confidante  I’m losing my mind Or maybe finding you Again In the hot steam uncondensed on my screen And I type furiously Not wanting to miss the words Agitated-  my words abandon me when I need them the most So I’ll settle for…

I hear silence I hear it and I don’t like the taste I don’t like how it smells and how it looks I don’t like hope it makes me feel Numb, along with my thoughts Pinching Pricking Needles, needles, needles On my mind As I hear silence Make it stop, please.  I’d chase the noise  Bury deep in the crowd Swim through chaos And ride the wave of screamsI’d wear red like an armour – pain…

we sit beneath the same sky the same colour of eyes and  gene so why is my grief different from yours? i run chasing mirages searching, grasping every last memory (her hair strands still lie crooked in nooks – pepper) so why am i weeping and not you? how did we become different if we are the same? murmurs turn to deep breaths,tears roll down to an avalanche heaving, heaving gasping for…

I don’t know if I have it in me to type anymore. With a blacked out state of mind, felt necessary to try and express.

i’m writing because i feel bitterlike all it was, was a ‘take care’ and ‘how are you‘ messages’ spreea continuous web of untalked, unexpressed emotions weaving into an untraceable maze- an ‘i’m alright, how about you?‘- verseand now i’m writing, alone.brushing a comfort of click (welsh, is it?) on a sombre winter eveyou reiterate – ‘all is well, and you?‘i don’t know what to sayI see through your…