Three a.m. Blabbers...

I sometimes sit next to my window at night, looking up at the stars and wondering...

what happens to relationships that die, do they go to heaven or hell like people, do they become stars like fairies, or do they remain here... cold chilly spectres of themselves...

ghosts that torment those who killed them?

Why hasn't someone invented the morning after pills for relationship control?

Like sex without the consequence... rather safe than sorry....

got too close to someone, not ready to be haunted...well pop a pill and stop an unwanted relationship from coming into this world

If only someone had come up with this, a lot of people wouldn't be sitting at their windows at 3 a.m. in the morning, shivering from the ghosts that refuse to let go... looking at the spectres of their making through tear glazed eyes...

as I cower in the cold

the misty tendrils surround me

as they refuse to loosen their hold

the past through their eyes I see

I wonder what went wrong

when right it had seemed to be

I wonder why they weren't strong

feelings that felt like the sea

I wonder why I wish for one more chance

when into pieces he broke me

I wonder why I wish for that single glance

why he still holds the key

I wonder if they seize him too

these ghosts of our past love spree

I wonder if he misses me too

through a cold night's howling plea

Love's Proverbial Tramp

I sit here under the yellow lamp,

wondering if I am Love's proverbial tramp.

Walking barefoot from cities to troughs,

through scorching passions and wintry roughs.

Crossed stars and tarot cards,

I sleep under, like those jobless bards.

but in my satchel I carry still,

A sneezing virtue, a leaking quill...

I sit here under the yellow lamp,

wondering why i carry this damning stamp.

Walking around in a forgotten daze,

weak from the ashes of blitz and blaze.

Foggy eyes and a swollen lip,

on the radar of love, but a fading blip.

But in my satchel, i carry still,

a breaking vow, a window-sill

I sit here under the yellow lamp,

wondering why my cheeks aren't damp.

Walking alone, for but a while so short,

running after trains I never could have caught.

Tattered books and unwritten lines,

a thirst unquenched, in a temple of wines.

But in my satchel, I carry still,

a begged hope, a glass mid-spill...

The lamp is gone, the light went out,

wondering what now to wonder about.

Walking along the crumbling roads,

as the frog by the side splutters and goads.

Mermaid hair and a dancing cramp,

what could I be, but Love's proverbial tramp.

But in my satchel, I carry still,

a tomorrow past, a fickle will...

The day of love

Its the designated day of love, yet all I feel today is an emptiness where that love should have been. I try to substitute the void with rose coloured excused dipped in chocolate sauce.
I keep enumerating the things that are missing, because when I sit down to list the things that are not, I end up with a blank sheet.
And I hate blank sheets... I hate barrenness.
Some people say that emptiness is a place from where you can start again, its the point where you have so much more space to fill up.
But what do I fill it with? The past that no longer looks back? or the future that is nothing but an empty picture in a frame of the present?
I did not lose anything, except an illusion, the illusion I created to appease a hungry dream, an illusion that lulled the dream into a poisonous sleep.
And now I sit here at my dusty doorstep,
watching as the illusion walks away down the road to sea with its boxes of magic and colourful scarves, with its eternal promises and packs of cards...
I wonder if the dream that I so treacherously put to sleep, would ever wake up to sing me its sweet lullaby again?

Innocent Betrayal

She sat there with her eyes closed, listening to the waves echo back the words he had just said...
the gamble he had played with his trusting heart and lost...

It was the stuff dreams were made off...the beach, the song from her favorite singer, the eyes full of the emotion she had always wanted to see...
But she didn't say a word..confused...looking for feelings she knew should be there...
And he stood there misunderstanding her silence for yes
He took her into his arms then...
Something within her panicked and she struck away from his surprised arms...
the arms drooped...the look shattered into a million crystals...struck down by the wall of her betrayal

She opened her eyes to see him chasing crabs...
To anyone watching from a distance, it would have been hilarious...a grown man on his knees crawling after tiny translucent crabs, being a charming little boy
But to her it was the most painful thing she had ever seen...a grown man broken in half...grasping for sanity which chased away from him, slipping into little holes in the wet sand

It broke her to break him, it tore her apart...but she had no choice...her fears, her doubts had taken over and masked the love that was somewhere inside...
And she had turned and run away...

she ran...

she could hear him calling...

but she ran...

she ran till she could no longer hear the accusing waves,
she ran till she could no longer feel the coldness of pain,

she ran for days
she ran for months
she ran for an eternity

and then she stopped

for she could smell the sea again
for she could hear his voice again
and there was the same love in it
she turned to see the look she knew was in his eyes
she turned to tell him she was not scared anymore

and there he was...

and it was stuff dreams were made of..the beach..the song...the eyes filled with the same emotion...

but his arms were closed and his head was bent, and where she should have been, was someone else...
she fell to her knees crawling away from the pain, looking for crabs that refused to come...
a little girl..a broken woman...Innocently betrayed...

A december evening

a mist of words so silenced
an embrace so sweet so violent
bodies mute
playing like a lute
a heartbeat missed
an earlobe kissed
a dancing soul
a burning coal
an evening I remember
of a forgotten December
the love so warm
impatient yet calm
the memories remain
like a foggy terrain
here I sit in my empty quilt
as cold as the heart frozen with guilt

PS: This is inspred from Priya's post A love Poem