The Love I Never Asked For

What if I’d told you,

That I know,

That every time you see me,

You fall in love with me all over again.

But what if I’d told you,

That every time you fall in love with me,

My heart aches,

It breaks a little inside.

Love wasn’t supposed to arrive.

But I didn’t realize,

We didn’t share a fate together,

We are two people with two different fates.

Your fate clashed mine at a point,

But I refused to break open.

And now you’re here, full of love

The love I find needless

I can apologize, for as long as you want me to,

For the fact that I cannot reciprocate.

But how will you forgive me,

If you’re still falling in love with me?

Your love crushes me inside,

How do I stop you from falling?

The love you carry for me all over

It’s too heavy to be just a love for me.

Happenstance

It was 12 midnight, I was falling asleep on her bed, listening. Almost listening. But she! She wasn’t sleepy at all. She still looked so beautiful to me through my half opened eyes.

“That’s how it works here. When someone dies of suicide, we don’t tell it. I don’t mean to say we hide it. We don’t. We just don’t say it. We signal it.” She spoke to me with sad eyes. Eyes that were tired of smiling. “We black out.”

I looked at her, and she understood I demanded more explanation. “The room of the person who committed suicide remains switched on, while the rest of all the rooms of that apartment remain switched off. Like we are mourning for them. When you see something like that, you know shit’s gone wrong.” She laughed. Almost laughed.

I half smiled, wondering if it appropriate to.

“You should go home, you’re falling asleep”, she said, brushing my hair with her fingers.

“I love you.” I got up, kissed her forehead and wore my slippers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kept her teddy bear back on the window grill, the bear smiling looking outside the window.

She gave a faint smile, like she was waiting for something to happen. Something she was terribly afraid of. “Me, too.”

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?”. I motioned towards her but she got up from bed, in a way which told me to stop. And so I did. I turned towards the door and began to walk. “Forgive me, good night.”, she said and closed the door behind me.

I walked towards the lift and waited for it to come down from the 15^th floor to the 9^th floor. Her sadness kept me worried, but tomorrow’s day’s plan kept me smiling. I was finally going to ask her to marry me. And I know, she wouldn’t say no. Not ever,

I reached to the ground floor and heard faint screams. I wasn’t sure where it came from. I continued walking towards the gate of the apartment. I felt the night darken than before. I felt my heart race, without a reason. I turned back, and saw one lit room, surrounded by dark rooms all over. My eyes opened wide, maybe to make sure it wasn’t all a dream what I was just seeing. I counted windows from the ground level to reach the number of the lit room.

I counted thrice, and then one once more again. It was the 9^th floor. I wish I was wrong. I wish I was terribly wrong. But it was the 9^th floor, even on the fourth time that I’d counted. Yes, that teddy bear was smiling looking outside at me. I felt dizzy. My heart trembled. I realized, shit had gone really wrong.

Closeness

Im sitting here
Sipping the liquor for the 100th time now
I have a blurr vision of the ones that have come along
But from here, I can see you so clear

I didn’t you see as I came, you were a part of the crowd
It took me time to recognize your face
If you don’t consider 10 seconds a lot
Then you could say I found you in this crowd

Don’t blame me, I’ve a bad memory
It’s been three years, your face has faded in me
But I know, you wouldn’t blame
You haven’t recognized my presence yet

You haven’t changed at all, have you?
Atleast with my drunk eyes it doesn’t look like you have
You still look so beautiful to me
I can feel the crowd fading away in air

Thank God they went, I can’t feel anyone’s presence
It’s just you and me, and a fainted noise around
Blurred moving objects are sometimes passing between my gaze
But I’m still looking at you, falling in love so much

I know, time has stopped for real
Every time you’re laughing, I can feel the butterflies in my stomach dance
I know I’m falling asleep, bring in love with you again
I’m falling asleep with you so near again

Beyond the Fault of the Stars?

“The Fault in our Stars”, he whispered, closing the book they just finished reading. “The Fault in our Stars”, she repeated after him, having a smile so painful. She rested her face on his shoulder, and let out a sigh. “What’s the matter”, he asked, noticing a tear in her eye. “It’s so beautiful”, she let out a cry. He took her in his arms and held her so tight, “Isn’t it?”. They held each other for more than a few minutes, embracing their feeling of love, remembering how it all started.
“They don’t know we lived, Augustus. We lived beyond death, our love was our heartbeat”, she held his face like she was holding a pearl in her hands. “Yes. We lived past death, inside a star. Inside this star, we’re happy, we’re in love”, Augustus replied, kissing her forehead. “This world, it’s crying for our pain. It’s crying for us. They’ve created words of our love, of our pain. They shall know that we lived. They shall know that we’re in that star that shines the brightest every night. We should let them know we’re alive, Augustus.” He looked into her eyes like he was falling in love all over again. “I love you, Hazel” he spoke, “but how are we going to tell them?”
“Maybe, maybe when the world will witness a falling star, it’ll be our star falling down on earth. The world would wish for a love greater than death, a love that will prove that death cannot do it apart. That love shall be us, again. The world will see us, believe us, cherish our love, and admire our beauty. They will no more cry out in pain for us, watching how death did us apart. They will witness our story being greater than death. They’ll give our love a name, that love that lived together even after death. They’ll call it, LOVE BEYOND THE STARS, the love of Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace.”
They looked down to the world from the star they’re living in. Augustus let a scream, hoping the world would hear him, “ we’re alive, world. It’s us. The love you’ve been crying upon, it’s right here.”
And that’s how they lived, hoping for a day they fall upon the earth, letting the world know that there are two souls stuck on love. It’s love beyond the stars, of Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace.

Drunkenness

It’s 2am, my fingers are still clenched to the third emptied bottle tonight. The half finished cigarette, held loosely from my other hand is still producing grey fumes. The sky is usually black at this time, but tonight it seems much darker. I can still taste the last sip of alcohol run through my throat, easing the pain somehow. I look up the sky, like it’s my companion to feel the pain tonight. I look at it, like it’s the only place I want to hide in, right now. It’s a moonless sky, still as beautiful. My blurry vision gets interfered with the grey smoke that just blew out of my mouth. The warm smoke touched my face and got away like a warm hand healing the wounds inside of me. I took another puff, beyond my throat, with a thought processing, until I coughed up the smoke, along with the thought. The smoke still hurt, but it was pleasurable to me. I leaned back on my chair, more of falling back on it. I let go of the bottle, taking another puff, lighter this time. Aware of being high, I found pleasure and comfort in this drunkenness. I blew out the grey smoke, for the last time tonight, until it fell on my face like a warm blanket of love, making my eyes shut down with tears. The grey smoke remained, like a warm home making me sleep, whispering in my ears that someday, everything is going to be alright.

The Painted Truth

Living in a small house, he liked painting sceneries,
He called them confessions, confessions to the truth.
When questioned of his job, he repeats the same,
“Go to these paintings, and you’ll know what I do.”

He lived in a city of common disappearances,
Disappearances of women, children and the elderly.
As respected as he was, for believing in honesty,
Whenever questioned as a witness, he said they were all at his home.

Once, then twice, they checked his house,
Finally declaring he’s a man with humour.
He kept quiet, without a fight,
Measuring the stupidity of their senses.

He showed his paintings, but never sold,
He kept them at home, like a geographical map.
Being a philosopher of honesty, he preached to his paintings,
“You’re the truth of me, the truth which no one can see.”

But stupid people could never realize,
If they dig up his paintings they could find.
The reason for his paintings wasn’t a mere passion,
They were the locations of all his buried murders.

How is it to let go?

Letting go is never neat and clean. It’s always messy. It’s always a little dirty, a little ugly, a little destructive and self destructive. You don’t wake up one day, decide to let go, and let go of that particular thing all at once. It’s never like that. It has never been like that. You wake up one day, deciding to let go of it, and act accordingly. And then, following third day you sleep back holding on as tightly as you can. Letting go has never been very easy, it’s doesn’t occur in a consistent pattern. And this inconsistent pattern is really not romantically poetic or an art to adore.
The people out there telling you that they’ve mastered letting go of things, they’re bullshitting. You don’t let go of the same thing every time. And that’s why, the same plan of action of letting go doesn’t work every time. You face new struggles, you face new excuses and new issues. You become stupid during the process, you do stupid things. You destroy, you walk over things. You do things that are unimaginable on your part. You take steps ahead and back, ahead and back, and ahead and back. And then you, someday, reach your destination. Destination of unaffected emotions. Letting go is not that one-direction ladder that you imagine. It’s the slippery no-other-way-to-go staircase. You get hurt, but you get wiser too.

Excuses of pain

I try to find actions of bad consequences
Of ugly words in beautiful silences
I try to find any bad happenings
I try to find the happiness threatenings
I wish for departures, sickness or fall
I wish for appal or bad news calls
For at least I would have a reason to feel this way
To feel sad, lonely and just dismay
For it’s been so long, the bad has gone
But I’m still here, feeling so alone
Let there come an occurrence of bad
For then I wouldn’t have to wonder why am I feeling so sad
I’ll have a reason, I’ll have an excuse
To convince myself of all my blues
I wouldnt have to worry for my happiness going dead
Atleast I can then convince myself that my sadness is valid

My buddy

Sometimes I still need you, you know
Not on the darkest nights, but when the days glow
I’m strong enough now for my hard times
But sometimes I need you when my sun shines
Not to demand, not to complain
I won’t call you to talk about my pain
But when I’m happy, and everything is well
You’re sometimes still the first person whom I wish to tell
Happiness grows a million times, when it’s shared
I told everyone, no one I spared
But your absence was felt, heard and pained
My happiness sometimes was just remained
Hey I miss you, I genuinely do
Not because I’m alone, or just out of the blue
Trust me on this, I’m much stronger, not the old style
But sometimes I wish you were here, so I could show you my smile

Respect

You open your eyes for the first time, and you see species just like yourself, but somehow different. They all are you, made up of things which you are made up of, having things which you too have. And there you perceive, they’re all someones, in the end, they’re all just humans. Human beings. Human beings, so powerful yet so delicate, that they need to be valued with a realization, and respected without a purpose. That built up the basis of humanity, the building blocks of it you could say, that every human being needs to be given respect. But here, irony smirked. Respect should be earned, not given for free like you’re growing it in your own garden. Respect is not a charity for the needy.
Now, change your mind like it should. Open your eyes wider than it did for the first time. And smile like you’ve smiled never before.
Here, people don’t come and tell you they deserve to be respected, you assume it yourself, because of the species they belong to;human beings. And when they prove worthy of not gaining that respect, there shouldn’t be a room for a compain of disappointment from your side. They never in the first place asked to be respected.
Respect is not the love-at-first-sight token to give. It’s something you gradually gain for someone. Again, being unkind cannot call for an excuse. Be kind, be helpful. But don’t conclude on people too soon for having a beautiful soul. People have beautiful ways to let you down. Accept it, as many as there are good souls here, there are bad souls as well. And some souls really aren’t worthy of your respect. And then, you’re not a Santa to give away free tokens. Respect is something you earn. The only people who can afford it, truly get it.