respite

a incomprehensible vase

a broken friendship

She lies on the ground

With as many cracks on her skull

as the breaks she felt in her heart

She lies in the bath tub

unmoving, without bubbles

She lies in the bottom

Of the ocean where fishes

Don't bother to venture.

If thoughts had power

To create parallel worlds

With real consequences

These are the places I'd lie

Dead, unmoving, unwanted

Unable to keep up with the world

Here I live a thousand deaths

In my head, looking at the mirror

Seeing a dead woman moving.

My least favourites are the ones where I hang by a rope

Or painted over a road with gut and glass shards

I pity her with the bottle of pills,

When she could have had

A bottle of something else instead.

Of all the parallel worlds there are,

I wish there's one where deliberation passes for accident

And I lie on a letter to a loved one

Bequeathing books and tidbits

That probably never 'belonged' with me anyway

To beloved beings

A glass of water

And ink washed over

My illegible scribble,

Keeping my secrets intact.

May I live on, as a mystery

That people don't bother to crack.

May I live on as memories

i dont want to be a daughter of a woman in this world

i don't want to make mistakes and learn

i want to breathe

I don't want to achieve, i don't want to prove

i am here without wanting to

if i still have to be here

then just let me be

in a nowhere land without steps trailing me

it's almost prophetic

how i ended up being early

and had to wait for you,

had to hold a seat by my side.

i fell in love, quite quickly,

accidentally but still aware,

i felt we were meant to be

but i was, then, alone.

i didn't know i could wait

being someone so impatient

but i did

and here i wait now too

with a spot reserved-

waiting for you to come here,

catch up

and see the future i see, hazy,

and unclear but

with a tightly held hand

and by my side,

my feet are useless

can not navigate

is this because of inversion?

hazy observation

obscured by lethargy

two people walk in silence

their thoughts drowned

in the noise of drops hitting

the slippery floor.

are they in love

are they seeking something

still? have they given up

a tire skids and the

reflections are smudged now

we do not know what happens beyond

was it an end?

maybe.

a walk in the park,

your characteristic misstep

lands you in a collision

with the one you walk

it's okay and sorry fuse into one

in the air it's meaningless now

everything is allowed and excused

a day so happy you know why

the sun is painted yellow eventhough

one can never see it directly to point at its colours

sunny but not sultry,

your palms don't sweat, even after holding hands for 2 hrs 35 mins and 12 secs

you would have held longer but you need both hands to unwrap the ice cream you both just got.

the phone is just a ghost

with its weight hanging down the pocket, nothing more.

and surprisingly thoughts

don't weigh as much as even

to bask in sunlight

its warmth reminding you

you're alive

to love is

to hold a hand

to intertwine, to ruffle

one's hair and feel at peace.

to love is

feeling tender,

and to be blown away by

being loved back.

to love is

being wedged by miles

yet be bound by voices

and ghost hugs.

to love is

to dream of being

together and waking up

from nightmares to a good morning text.

to love is

showing eachother's scars

and yet sharpening knives

by friction not volition.

to love is

writing about it when

that's all you can do

on paper is this poem, just

and my make up too

maybe change my hair

and do my nails too

maybe get a nose job?

nah, but - hmm.

going to get polka dots

i'd usually never wear them

get black lipsticks probably

and steer clear of reds

that i usually wear,

maybe a green liner and

wear gold framed glasses

become an image

that looks not like me at all.

maybe then maybe then

sadness will lose its way

when it looks at me

unable to recognise and get confused

maybe then it will leave me

like dry leaves at the end of summer

they don't make a sound

like the rustling though

-

they are the sounds

of creaking glass before it shatters

.

.

the sound of notification bell

for a conversation I can't hold

.

.

the sound as i join

a meeting on gmeet i don't want to be at

.

.

the sound of my favourite mug

slipping from my hands and breaking

.

.

the sound of the voice

that whispers my fears without skipping a beat

.

.

like another word

thrown out in anger

.

.

for losing water as tears,

one would expect to feel lighter

but my heart grows heavy

and feels left behind

and i can't rush her, i just wait.

i shed tears

so they leave a trail as craters on the sand

as they dry up

அதற்கு தேவையான செயல்களில் ஈடுபட விரும்புகிறேன்

வேண்டுதல் காதுகள் கேட்காத போதும்

கடவுளைச் சுற்றி மூன்று முறை வலம் வருவது போல்,

சோம்பல் முறித்துக்

காலையில் பல் துலக்குவது போல்,

சாரலடித்தால் சன்னலை

அடைக்கும் முன் நின்று

அனுபவிக்கும் கணம் போல்,

மழையோங்கும் நேரம் விடும்

காகித கப்பல் மேலுள்ள சிறிய நம்பிக்கை போல்,

நேசிப்பது

அனிச்சையாக பரிட்சயமான செயலாக வேண்டும்.

நேசிப்பதிலடங்கிய செயல்களை

பயில விரும்புகிறேன்

உலா வர - கடவுள்

பல் துலக்க - தூரிகை

அடைக்க - சன்னல்

கப்பல் விட - காகிதம்

என இருக்க

சிந்தையிலோடும் என் எண்ணங்களுக்கு

make sure my breath

does not move

anything even by a little,

slow my heart

to beat at will,

chain my thoughts

to the brain's grill,

will time sit with me too?

அவனது வார்த்தைகள்

செவிகளில் நுழைந்தும்

விழாமல் தவழும் நேரங்களிலா?

அவனது கனவுகள், தெருவிலே

நகரும் ஹெட்லைட்கள்

விட்டத்தின் மேல் ஏறியும் நிழல்களோடு சேர்ந்து

வடிவிழக்கும் நேரத்திலா?

முன்னேற முயன்றும்

அலைக்கடந்தப்பின் விரள்களிடையே

சிக்கும் மண்போல்

முயற்சிகள் பின்தங்கும் வேளையிலா?

பிறந்து, வளர்ந்து,

கற்று, காதலித்து,

பணிந்து, பணிப்புரிந்து,

யாவையும் யாசித்தப்பின்பும்

இருக்காமலே இருந்திருக்கலாமோ

என்றெண்ணும் நொடியிலா?

ஒருவனை எதை மாய்க்கிறது?