Shades of silence

I wonder what the colour of unspoken words would be?

The thoughts tinted by the emotion,

Would it be amaranthine, like the blushing cheeks every time you saw your crush?

Or aquamarine, blending with the calmness of an otherwise turbulent sea,

An esoteric eburnean, like a blank canvas, waiting to be painted with lush green ideas..

Or a mysterious purple, the jumbled rumination of an oscillating mind,

A mikado tint, when the words feel like dancing daffodils in the meadow,

Or a deep scarlet, for all the anguished thoughts running amok,

But my favourite thought would be black and white, that lets me think without any filter,

Unadultared and ruthless like black,

Yet innocent and serene like white.

Come dance with me

I know, and you know,

That we’re only momentary,

Cramped within the lifespan of a snowflake,

Or a marshmallow dipped in hot chocolate,

A hangover that lasts, only until next morning,

But while we’re here, under the starlit skies,

Let’s leave the affliction for tomorrow,

The pain and the sorrow,

Till then, come dance with me,

As we etch this moment into infinity.

A path is made by walking on it

When Alice went after the white rabbit,

T’was all about fun and glory,

It isn’t exactly a fairy tale though,

When the rabbit hole becomes,

a part of your story.

You stretch and pull yourself

With the “eat me” and “drink me” things,

Posing yourself with or against,

The weights that tug at your will.

The bandersnatch of time, is all that matters,

When your life lays, on a platter.

When it is a race between you

And the red queen, that beats

At the very core of your being.

The times when you discern

That the Jabberwock of pain would burn, but,

It’s the vorpal sword all along,

That was your biggest concern.

So you play the final cards in hand,

With all that you learnt in wonderland,

And vanquish the sorrowful army,

To arrive, victorious,

At the mad hatter’s tea party.

Pain never vanishes

What hurts the most?

The goodbye you don’t see coming,

The friendship you don’t see ending,

The leaf, whose agony of falling,

Goes unseen with the wind..

The transient blast of a supernova,

The birth of a creation,

Who is to measure..

The magnitude of its explosion??

The parting of a dear one,

That left you with scars and blemishes,

Printing on you an evidence that,

Pain never vanishes.

It stays within you,

Gnawing and scratching your insides,

day in and day out,

Till you learn to live with it,

And till you learn to live without.

So you teach yourself,

To bury deep within, the things that you’ve lost,

And that, my dear friend, is

What hurts the most!

One moon is not enough

So they taught in school,

That Jupiter has 79 moons, And Saturn has 82,

If people lived on those planets,

What would they do??

How would they tell one moon from another,

And how would they study stuff,

And that always made me wonder,

If one moon is ever enough.

To be someone’s muse,

To be an inspiration,

To keep us awake at night,

In a despairing exasperation.

A moon to light up someone’s night,

A moon for a song to write,

A moon for a lullaby,

A moon for a passerby.

A moon to paint a canvas,

Where colours write a tale,

Of a starry sky that poured itself,

Into the blue sea’s grail.

And the stories that are written,

On nights when it went to fluff,

I do believe, for all it is,

One moon is never enough.

Furniture of my heart

Welcome to the humble abode of my heart,

Just mind your head a bit,

And leave your shoes in the steel blue shoe rack,

In the hallway of the inferior vena cava.

…

Let me invite you for tea,

In the autumnal red atrium,

Passing through the tricuspid door entry,

Leaving our rancour outside.

…

As we seat ourselves on the carved wooden table near the glass window,

I watch you scanning the space with amused eyes,

Flowing from the curtains on the window,

To the vase on the cabinet,

And I hear you chuckle as you see my scrap book,

lying on the hutch under the tv.

…

I show you around, and you follow me with rapt interest.

You hold your breath, as we enter the blue atrium,

And wonder if I still remembered your favourite colour when,

You notice the stylish table lamp, that is made of wood and tinted glass.

…

And you have a knowing smile when you see the swinging chair,

Next to the mahogany book rack.

You aren’t surprised when you see Harry Potter on the highest shelf,

And I let the “seriously?” expression on your face go unnoticed.

…

We don’t talk too much cuz we’re walking down a memory lane,

Searching yourself in the photo frames on the wall,

And the tiny tit bits lying on the dresser, that are your gifts,

Remind us of a time, not too long ago.

…

Almost dinner time as we approach the subtle green ventral room,

And you’re surprised to see a dining table for six right in the centre,

“I like having my friends over sometimes”’ I say,

And you smile as you believe that I still think of you as one,

That’s something to strike a conversation I think,

As I set the crockery from the cupboard onto the table.

…

We continue our banter, wine glasses in hand,

Me in the chaise and you in the bean bag,

The roof light— a dim pink,

And Ed Sheeran’s Perfect playing in the background.

And in that moment we knew,

All resentment was forgotten, all grudges forgiven.

…

It’s 4 in the morning, as I let out a stifled yawn,

We look at the clock at the same time

And laugh out loud,

As we move into the innermost chamber of my heart,

Painted in the most calm off white hue.

…

Still talking in hushed, sleepy voices, we lie down,

On the old school, four poster bed, that has pictures of peacocks on its crown.

Drifting away instantly into a placid, content sleep, between the jumbled pillows,

As the sun was rising, and the birds chirped in the distance.

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