Scars

The places where your skin had caressed mine, Had left indelible prints and inimitable fragrances. I peel those skins off my flesh today, In a vainglorious bid to forget. I hope that the new skin growing soon, Would hide the secrets of the old scars. This skin, however, Smells of putrid flesh, festering over wounds…

Elusive Illusion

What is poetry, she asks, Distilled misery, I tell her. Or refined joy, quips she. Sorrow hollows the soul, said Gibran, so its chalice can hold joy. Poetry, I said, is shards of my soul, being carved out, a syllable at a time. Her warm embrace dissolves the rest of the words in my palate….

Little piece of Cancer

In the fields of the mind, the parasite planted itself, Courtesy a trivial gesture or a passing joke. It grows, Surreptitious, Seductive, Serendipitous.   Alien, yet amicable, Invasive, yet comforting, Exotic, yet crude, Apathetic, yet sensual, Shrouded in mystery, drowned in indifference.   You see it prosper, Taking the shape of the void within, Water…

Visage Envisaged

I think I made you up in my head, with bits and pieces you gave me. The portrait completed itself. I filled the gaps, with strokes I saw fit. The visage I created filled the void in me, ephemeral. But it wasn’t you, It was what I saw you as. The portrait I painted was…

Meaning

The connoisseur looks at blurred lines and finds art in faded colours. Look out to the empty world, breathe meaning into it, for others to read. You are like a flower that grows in the darkness, only to die when the sun shines on you.   Inspired from ‘Westworld, The Series’

Ephemeral Philosophies – II

The silence was deafening. My mind felt like the surface of a pond on a rainy day, being peppered with inchoate ideas, incessantly. We had been sitting in the balcony for some time now. I knew F was not going to rekindle the conversation. It was up to me to silence the voices in my…

Ephemeral Philosophies – I

The sun was hidden today by gloomy clouds weeping all over the hills. We were on a vacation trek here and had just reached our nest for the day. It was evening and we were tired from all the walking and climbing. The plan to roam around the village nestled in the hills was shelved…

Love

The most intoxicating of wines, Sparkling, The aroma, corroborating Impeccable craftsmanship. Complete with drops of venom, Diffusing like red ink In clear water. The perfect concoction, The addictive poison. The heady mix of pleasure and pain, Of mirth and of vain, Numbs my senses, Blurs my mind, Seductive poetry in a vial. The price, a…

What if I wake up Tomorrow, And all that is left of you, Is a figment of A half remembered dream? Would I be happy That I had a good dream Or sad That my reality isn’t fair.