Romancing death.

Romancing death was easier than I thought;
He smiles and asks if I am afraid,
I laugh in response.

You smell so nice, he says to me;
I nod my head and tip my hat.
He asks me to come, and I am early.

I wear my Sunday clothes
’cause you bid goodbye in style.

There was never a moment this alive.

My Body is Homeless

Raging extremities
contained in my flesh
crawling through my brain
enough to cleave me into two

How could it be possible
to contain so many of me
in myself
and yet feel homeless
in my own body

How do I know which
one is me
and which one
I should be running away from

I just want to reconcile
all the different things I am
to become one
to become me
to finally feel at home


The sun shines on my grave

You’re like half-forgotten dreams,
and the perfect colour of night turning to light.

The time of restlessness and recklessness,
when pain is inconsequential and unimportant.

It’s like the moment after the laugh dies on the lips,
or just the beginning of a smile.

The tilt of the head, considering,
when the air is heavy with uncertainty.

I’m like a grave, newly dug open,
with sun shining, like on the first day of summer.

Place roses on my grave, decide now,
or come, lie here with me.

Why write?

They asked me why do I write? I kept silent not because I didn’t have an answer but because I had too much to say. I write because I don’t know there is a life possible without it, I write because I don’t know how to live without writing. Because it seems like the most natural thing to do, like my hands were made to hold a pen and rest it on a page and scrawl words across it. Painting the page with ink and shapes. It brings out the best in me. And, it reminds me who I really am; just a girl who wants to write.

This great urge to write; it is both a curse and blessing at once. It’s like a prison with no lock. You’re free and bound at once. A paradox really.
I write because, for me, it’s not a part, but a way of life.
I write because I have to. Because the need is greater than almost everything else. And this need presides over my life.

Write you a letter..



I’ll write you a letter I’ll never send
You’ll never know what is was meant to be
A love letter or all my goodbyes

A crisp white page would have your name
written on top with my favourite ink
And I’ll gently caress it, afraid to read aloud
Tracing the words, imagining your face

I’ll write you this letter that you’ll never see
Just like you went your way,
hardly sparing a careless glance

And I’ll finally write it
and put in a locked closet
where it’ll fade into nothingness
ink fading with everything I felt for you

I’ll write you a letter but you’ll never know
because I’ll realize, all this while it was for me
And as the ink flowed,
I could see how much I needed this

The letter, I’ll keep it with me.

The fallen leaf

Maple leaves fallen on a lawn.

The seasons changed
And one day, the warmth of the sun fought with the chill of the earth
Everything faded into vividness of darkness and richness,
of yellows and reds

That’s when I fall on the ground,
of soft damp earth,
I await my fate.

Days go by,
smiling children play nearby,
lovers meet; lovers kiss
And till I see the sights,
I take a sigh of relief

I try to not think of the day,
the day those children and those lovers might take it away
They’ll playfully pass by and press me down on earth
and i’ll crinkle and tear like an old paper
having finally met my destiny.

I’m the fallen leaf,
I see the seasons change
And revel in the joy,
and weep for my fate.

My Heart on Sale

So I was just sitting by
Wondering all the reasons why
What does one want with a heart?
And my heart, well, it was broken you see
And I didn’t want it anymore

So, I thought
Let’s put my heart on sale

So will you buy it, or are you a window shopper?
It’s not pretty enough to be displayed
But I’ve put a sign board
It’s price on request
The price, my pain

It comes with no guarantees, and there’s no return policy
And I’ve warned enough
It’s damaged enough
It’s broken

But I don’t want it
It serves me no purpose
Except to sometimes hurt me enough to keep me awake

I’ve tried getting a replacement
Maybe it can be repaired?
But I’ve had no luck
And I’ve given up

So my heart, I’ve put it on sale
Are you a buyer, or just a mocker
And let me tell you again
It’s good for nothing but the pain

But I don’t want it
It serves me no purpose
Except to sometimes hurt me enough to keep me awake

So here.
Buy it.
And do whatever with it.
You see, I don’t care enough.
Maybe you can keep it as a reminder
Or you can throw it away
It’s no good I know
But please take it away.

My heart, I’ve put it on sale.
I don’t want it anymore.
It serves me no purpose
Except to sometimes hurt me enough to keep me awake

So, will you buy it?

The answer.

Death is the answer. Death is always the answer.

Your whole life leads up to it. Every second you live is a second closer to ‘The End’.

You spend your whole life learning to live when no one will teach you to die.

The most ignored truth, the universal truth, the truth which makes us all, one of a kind.

You are after all as sure to die as anybody else in the world.

And then when we have to, when we want to, we want to live again, because we never really lived, because we were never really going to die.

What a waste. Instead of living like we are mortals, we die thinking we are immortals.

We must learn, we must accept the final truth, the last truth; to live in the truest sense of the word.

And when I judge no one’s life, no one should judge me in my death.

Tread softly on the glass.

Tread softly on the glass;
I know, you don’t care much about the pain,
But the sight won’t last.

Now, now don’t look too sad,
You are not alone;
They choose to walk behind.
Fools, they don’t know how special you are?

Like a drop of pure bliss
You drop into my soul
And even when I think,
I think in not in one but in two.

You came in as I slept, lost.
Now, straighten your bones, align your heart
Take a small sigh, how lovely you are
Let the fear waste on you, it’s just a laugh
Tread softly on the glass.