The Silence of My Voice

"Everything about you separates you from the people in my life" You said it'll be gnarly, you said it'll be chaotic, But it'll be a ride, You said there'll be longings, you said there'll be greed, But that we'll make it a party, You said I need to give, you said I need to deplete, But it'll be all in good taste, You said you need to lament, you said you need to bruise, But only because monsters need the most spooning, You said you're warped, you said I was abundant, But it all was not unreal, You said it's not all games, you said I'll do the hurting, But no one really had a conspicuous plan, "Only because I've chosen you to hurt me" You said "I'm His Girl", you said you'll serenade me, But there wasn't even an orthodox departure, You said there'll be gestures, you said there'd be plants, But all I felt was belittling, You said there'll be time, you sai...

Dear A, I'm confused as to how to address you anymore.  Have you cached up on more names now? What's the latest sobriquet? More so, are you able to identify now with any of them? And, don't try to distort the truth to yourself, Ask for help, you're going to be in need of it. And, don't go at it alone,  It will be crushingly vexing, And, don't say no incessantly, It'll make you sound uninspiring, Nobody is going to know you whole immediately, So don't be worried if they judge you, You're about to rattle them. And, labouring isn't always going to affirm fulfilment, So let some ambiguity exist. And, you're irreplaceable, as is everyone, So don't care so much. And, you'll make friends, So keep empowering them, They will liberate you....one day. Don't fight shy of feeling, You're going to be jolted for a six. And, you will be marooned, you will be heartbroken, So don't clo...

I've had a winter, The unprecedented ones, The ones, after which you face,  no qualms, Adjusting to the banality of the next one, The ones with exhilarating perilousness, And an absence of commonality, And, oh, the liability of the perfect! The ones with no ambition, With only the humour of expectations, The ones that never make it to poems, Because it's like blood, For those with amnesic tastes & a middling craving, The ones where the salt from their eyes, Weigh in on the long letters, The weight of which your postbox barely upholds, The ones, that makes them wary, Of where the urgencies lie, The ones where you never have to choose, The ones where the sunsets count, the breakfasts don't, The stories count, the sex don't, The looks count, the words don't, The ones with porous promises, And presents wrapped of lovelessness, The ones where the blistering answers collar the questions, And the questions are direly ta...

Her hands, withered yet supple handed me the little black books. I found her speaking with a voice roughened with wisdom, repeating the same words I'd heard last in a voice much flintier than hers, "Sky is the limit, Barfi. He taught your mother this. You must inherit it."  Aware of everything the books cloaked, anxiety also misted over me knowing I'll be taking them away from whom they've always belonged to, the sky it belonged beneath. I could feel myself sinking into a conundrum by each second as I touched the wilting leather hardback of the diary that held his entire life. "What if I can't crack it?", shilly-shallying my indecisiveness as always. The bleak moment I saw her smile sardonically like never before, I felt a menial catastrophe that slight action instigated enveloping me.  "Must you be so distrusting of yourself? You're quite like him in a way."  Thrown back by her words, I failed to understand if my behaviour, and more...

"You pretty nicely seem to have forgotten your manners. Do not raise your voice in front of me like that again!", another of Natasha's if-you're-younger-be-nice toned scream came out. The maid silently cleared the bed of the quilts she was setting for the night, and marched out of the room realising this was not going to be good. "I am not a child anymore, Nata. Stop telling all the time what to do.", Samantha screamed back. Natasha, dazed, stared at her little sister. Only that she wasn't little anymore. She had transformed into a woman, and a fierce one at that.  "Then stop acting like one.", Natasha countered.  Samantha kept glaring back with such fury that she was burning inside. Ashamed on talking in an unruly manner with her sister, she looked away, and she breathed down some sobs. Natasha, unable to see her sister cry, took a step towards her to comfort her. As she raised her hand in a gesture to stroke her face, Samantha retreated...