Him

Moonlit night,

Dark green grass,

Lying together,

Staring at the stars…

Unspoken words,

Words too close to our hearts…

If we take a step forward,

We’d fall apart…

But if we never dare to step,

We’d never be able to move ahead…

Transfixed at a dichotomy we face,

Spiraling and spiraling,

It eats our heads…

At times I try,

Maybe too hard

But it’s only when moments we shared comes to focus,

So large,

So magnified

That I fail to see,

Beyond my belief…

Reality knocks stronger at times,

To keep myself shut

In this cage of mine…

But I can’t stop asking myself,

If he meant something,

Or nothing at all,

Of the things he did,

Those little moments of happiness that he made me feel…

Intentional or not,

I keep wondering day after day,

Without an answer:

My irrational wail…

Should I hold on,

Or let it go…

I keep vacillating endlessly,

Either gains prominence

With the same loose wind that hits me time and again…

It was easier,

Just to see him everyday,

Although unpredictable as he was,

He still managed to surprise me,

In a happy way…

Its not just what he did,

But his very presence

That’d invariably rise my heart palpitations:

Just the way he looked at me,

The way he laughed,

And the way he’d click his tongue…

Ephemeral activities of his,

That’d just make me feel in an indescribable way…

Serious infatuation,

Some may say,

Desperateness others would call,

But really, I believe it was free of them all…

Or maybe a mixture,

Or maybe not,

I don’t know myself at all…

But something inside keeps telling me,

It’s not that stupid after all…

That something, which tells me to hold on…

That something, which beckons me to try,

Even if I’d fail anyway,

That something, which is so irrationally stuck in me,

That I can’t get it off,

Even if I might ignore it most of the times…

That something, which continues to stay,

And haunts my dreams in the weirdest ways…

I wonder what transfixes me more,

Is it him and what he left behind,

Or is it that something,

Which pushes me into a spiral time and again…

Evil or Saint,

I wonder what it is,

Torturous or Calming,

I wonder which dominates,

Sinful or Pure,

I wonder which overrides the other…

Both I feel,

Both I go through,

His evanescent past presence in a golden memory,

And his prolonged absence in dusted reality…

Him, I have

Or him, I’ve lost…

That something, still persists and will continue persist in me,

Until time and fate finally decide to rust its working…

Found and Lost again...

What's been lost is hard to find...

To begin a anew a different life, 
A different story,
A different drama, 
A different movie in play...

The only sad part being
You never know the end,
You never know what lies on the other side...

The wait, 
The goodbyes,
The greetings,
The mix-ups,
And all the weird dreams...

In my brain, 
They form a weird tangle,
All the memories,
Stringed by varying shades of grey...

Words are my only rescue,
To paraphrase endless thoughts 
That form no coherent pattern.

Of moments lost in time,
That, which will never return again...
That, which lost their charm in the monotonic ticks of the clock...

Most of the times, 
You can only sit back and ponder, 
Sometimes wishing to rewind, erase, and redo...
But usually, its the same reel of memories 
Playing over and over again...

And all you are, 
Is a lone spectator, 
Of a chain of events...

The greetings are always warm,
The smiles and laughter, wrapped in joy,
But transient states 
They fade...

What's been lost is hard to find.

But it is harder to lose, once you've found it again.

Although life tries to teach you,
Time after time, 
The art of letting go,
Instead you try to hold on even more...

Its not the fights, the shouts that hurt,
Its only the greetings,
The same smiles and laughter that return to haunt...

Making the art of letting go,
All the more difficult and tiring...

Sometimes you find it.

Sometimes you lose it.

But sometimes, its time to learn the game:
The art of lost and found...

In believing that it would be found, 
Although it appears lost,  
And serenely accepting, what's found, 
Might be lost again...

Shady Melancholies

At times, you see too many colours
You get infected with shades 
Of doubt, of fear:
The side effects of a close attachment.

These shades whisper words and thoughts:
Uncomfortable and dark,
Although least probable 
Somehow manage to soup your brain into believing it.

They come and go,
Like storms raging in and out.
Sometimes they carry flowers anew,
Sometimes wrinkled leaves of past.

Its difficult to tame this rebel inside,
That stands to oppose anything you choose.
And shades are sly,
They change colours faster before you get used to it.

A person remains person no more,
And shades take over him.
You can hardly identify him,
In the jelly of colours spilled over him.

Shades which listened to no one
Neither him, nor you.
Swept in along with the tide of smiles,
And comfort that'd once been.

You stare at your ceiling,
Blank, 
Is what had been, no longer what there is ?
Is it escaping again ?

You try hold on to something so hard,
Yet it slips from your fingertips,
And faster and faster, 
You watch it race away...

What had struck you once,
Strikes you again, 
These shades that preoccupy your mind
Dance a silly tale...

The dismal part being,
They never leave you.
They flounder, they mock,
They seize you, when you least expect them to.

He's brought back those shades,
Shades you tried to hide.
Shades you thought had vanished long time back,
But they never did.

Squirms of uneasiness inside your gut,
Unsure, 
Whether they shut too early 
Or open too late.

Unsure, if everything you felt
Was your own made up story again.
Moments of silence, 
Between us still.

We might take the same path,
We might walk different ones,
But somehow it won't be the same anymore,
The shade-free luminescent days of past.