Of Hearts

I look back and I remember how my friends once told me over a chilly morning in October at school, how I am the worst at drawing hearts. I remember them saying how the two halves never resembled each other enough to convince anyone that it was a heart. Symmetry, they said, wasn't my forte.
As I draw, erase, and re-draw the heart over n over again I realize there was only truth in their sentences. May be I did suck at drawing hearts, maybe I sucked at understanding them too. The mechanisms that make it work smooth? My body mostly doesn't like it.

Maybe I have too much of a rebellious soul, the thought of which fucks me up because I? I don't even understand half the things. I've never understood how love works. I've never even understood what constitutes love. How two people feel so deeply for each other that they not only understand each others reasons but also appreciate the quirks. Why two people voluntarily already being complete wholes themselves choose to join the commitment wagon with another person. Perhaps I'm just scared. Or perhaps I'm just mirroring what I draw- stupid unsymmetrical hearts that convince no one of their reality and existence. Perhaps love too, is not my forte.

To Exist or Live?

You and I? We share stories.
Someone else shares pieces of their heart with the only person in the world they want to be with at that moment, when there is a soft Bruno Mars song playing in the background on a cool October evening.

You and I? We feel happy at the sight of a puppy.
Someone else falls in love with every broken piece that their heart already is, on the sight of the furry canine that probably wags their tail and runs upto them with half bouncy steps.

You and I? We admire our better halves.
Someone else truly understands and appreciates the grace with which they accomplish even the simplest of tasks, like breathing.

You and I? We love how cool the weather feels.
Someone else probably gets drenched in the aroma that tells them that every little thing you're worrying about is going to be alright.

You and I? We hold hands.
Someone else realizes the vitality of that moment to his existence, how this is the one moment he'd give up anything to have again, how time is his enemy then.

You and I? We fail.
Someone else gets crushed under the heavy weight of the baggage they've been carrying all their lives in the hopes that this one success will aid them to gather enough courage to get rid of all the guilt they've been carrying for things that weren't even their mistakes in the first place.

You and I? We read
Someone else out there lives on it. He breathes in literature and chokes Everytime someone stop reading out a write up out loud.

You and I? We exist.
Someone else lives.

Of Broken Bones & Heart

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.
A formula that makes it evident that sounds of silence,

Are the same as loud jarring noises on lonely nights.

One that rolls up all the soft tendrils on the edges of the garden

And makes them as comprehensible as the flowers growing within it.

It turns and twists with the sad comedy,

That comes with the undeniable truth that “pain demands to be felt”.

One that sits neatly balancing the sorrow & despair, limitless,

Within this limited world.

One that makes it easy for me to hold large lies in my small hands,

And yet fight with closed fists that cannot be broken open by the toughest machines.

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.

A formula that strains into existence the reality that an injury from a wayward branch scrapping your knee

Is just as awful as the desolation that crept up in the cells of my body after my first argument with him.

A formula that equates your agony while eating pizza alone after being fired

With my heartache while having dinner with friends and family after the breakup.

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.

A formula tells you & me that the maps our arteries and veins have designed on our bodies

Are the only ones we should truly follow.

One that tells you as much as it tells me 

That there are affable beings and surreal happenings,

Waiting for us on the other side of this brokenness 

That is consuming us one heartbeat at a time.

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.

Of Missing You

I've missed you. Terribly. Badly. Sadly. Madly.
Let's walk under the street lights,
Talk of love, loss, life,
And also about everything nice.
Let's pour out our hearts again,
Tell me about that girl once more
And oh! your favorite teacher too!
Talk me through your last day at school and the first day you won a quiz.
Tell me.
Come with me,
Let's make up new constellations as we spent the night star gazing.
In the morning I'll take you to my favorite spot in this city, we'll click pictures there and frame them.
If hunger bothers you, don't worry there is this place that I love but don't tell people about. I'll take you there and we can devour all the food you want.
But do not forget you'll have to hear me too.
You'll have to hear me tell you about my deepest insecurities,
How every time the clouds get together my face lights up.
I'll tell you about my dream
And how snow is so amazing.
Why I think surrealism is so important and violence, not.
I'll tell you things you should know.
I've missed you. Have you?