A Response

The music sung the ridiculous conditions of our hearts in synchrony

However different we felt from each other,
The unity of our paralyzed lives,
Spoke in a language too familiar

Drunk on moments of happiness,
We drove our sorrows away..

If there is a thing about bus rides-
It is music and its profound meanings
Unknown so long and so far

I don't know if it is easy to fit in,
But I do know what it means
To count on someone
To have someone who understands

"We are all chapters of different stories"
But all these stories are chapters of a larger story
The of each of our lives-
The wonder that keeps strangers weirdly comfortable-
The beauty of unison of hearts-
Not because they love too much
But because they love carelessly and ceaselessly,
Leaving them with no option but to accept depression..

This is my chapter-a chapter which doesn't necessarily have to end
A chapter-I'll love, loathe and remember
A chapter that lives beyond me
Beyond me-in the shape of this poem

So let's put together our difference
And together, let us be uniquely different
Let's live-let's write-let's dance-
Let's drive these sorrows away....

Chai-stained

It goes down in history, this night, I say.
It goes down in the memories I shall always hold on to.
It sinks in deep-these words you say

Skin-deep-this elation,this emotion

Do we belong together?
Or is this longing quenched?
Is it a-
Beginning to an end?
Or an end to our beginning?

Walk past you-I can't
See you fade-I won't.
I need your chai-stained heart to feel.
I need it to beat an extra beat-
Every time you hold my heart in your palms
I need you to feel the flip in your stomach-
The start of journey-the end of familiarity

You are no depression-but the reason to hold on
You and I-the chaos we are-
Is nothing but the innocent gap
The gap we need to feel this way.
The gap we need to apologize.
The gap we need to come closer.
The gap we need to live at all.
"Distances only make relationships stronger."
I was told, but now I believe

Forever-I love thee not.
Half a forever-I spent in the moment
The moment we knew was just ours
The time we knew no one could take away
Yes, raw and naive is this life
Like an unfinished poem
An unspoken word
But chai-stained I am for eternity
Burnt and sticky, burnt and sticky.

Surreal Realities

"Arnold Palmer", she said boldly. "Arnold Palmer", I repeated in my head, learning to mouth those words I've never said before, learning confidence from a girl who said she had none. She was an inspiration of a different kind-the one that sang your sorrows away, the one that listening and cheered in your joy, the one that can never say a goodbye.
I remember having met her to say goodbye to her, to let us weep in the sorrow of separation-but as I left her side today, I didn't feel the pain of growing apart. The gold I've found in her wisdom and words, the joy I find in her logic and emotions-they never belonged to a physical reality. They always belonged to a virtual world-a world where Saturdays were life-the third dimension of our relationship. I never felt a tinge of sorrow-for we weren't losing each other, we were in fact, growing together in separate paths-when were we even on the same path?
In comfortable silence, we chewed our food-the delicacies perfecting the mood. It was just her presence that I needed, just the way her deep black eyes sparkled. I call myself the eyes which speak, but it wouldn't know how to speak if not for her-it lit up a smile. She called it "the sunshine in our smiles." She was synonymous to hope, to being the brother I never had, to the family I wanted to choose. We were weird that we found solace in each others' presence, but what better than knowing when you say nothing and feeling so much more than you can actually put into words?
We were distorted-imperfect figures-an embodiment of shame for some. But in all these flaws, we loved ourselves. How else would we know the importance of being who we are and not anyone else? Proud teenagers, I say we are. Proud of all the hope and strength we still see in life.
Our lives has traveled on distant parallels, parallels we chose not be ashamed of. If life was about choices-this was the best choice we made. The choice of never-regretting, the choice of taking pride in our choices. And if life was about finding the right person-I think I've found my right person. And no, she isn't from the opposite sex and no, we aren't getting married. The best part of this relationship is that we find, we grow, we love and we fall right back into each other at the end of the day-because we've found our soul-twins, and we can grow apart comfortably-because we know the other is always there.
Always has never meant anything so real ever before.
Always, star-crossed soul-twin. Always.

The Girl Who Wrote

Naive, young and bold-you were just like this when I first spoke to you. Nothing in the world could describe you better than the way you write. All our imperfections and our faults, all our miseries and lovelessness, all the drunk moments when we were high on happiness, all those times we counted down to college together-to you, the girl who wrote. To you, this poem-

It took an instant to love you
An instant to believe, trust
An instant to look beyond
And give happiness a chance
An instant to know you
An instant to find us
An instant to this happenstance
An instant was it all

And I promise that this wonder
The wonder of not knowing
The joy of naivety
The poetry on life
Will die with us-
When we are dead and gone
And over it all
Said and done

I promise to stay
I promise to love
Not because I can,
Because I want to.
So to you, the girl who wrote
To you, my inspiration
I send waves of love
To wherever you are
And whenever you feel like
Receive them with open arms
For I am there whenever you need
I promise-because together our pens bleed.

A love that was not

For I know this will never reach your ears
I know the poet I can never be
I know the harsh tune of melancholy
Slowly swallowing me

And I know the words you said to me
I know the serenity of your eyes
I know how these starless nights
Dimly dance sorrows away

I saw you at a distance called love
I drifted through your life of lies
I gauged your imperfections
And weighed your flaws tonight

I let the wind brush your hair
I caught the light to shine your pride
I held the strings of time and space
And hoped that you'd look behind

For there I was knowing your poem
The one you always read out to me
Never knowing I listened-
'Thoughts, actions, perseverance'

But deep inside I know the poem
The one you never wrote that night
The one you might never feel again
'Cause emotions can't be felt twice

Love can't be repeated-
Not this way, not this time
So I write to you, my dear muse
On the love we never shared that night

The love that always tore us apart
The love that questions all of me
The love that kept our lives apart
The love that we could be

For I know this will never reach your ears
I know the poet I can never be
I know the harsh tune of melancholy
Slowly swallowing me

And I know the words you said to me
I know the serenity of your eyes
I know how these starless nights
Dimly dance sorrows away

For there is perfection
In the mere presence of your light

Hold on to This Moment

I often wondered why people live in just certain moments and feel dead in the very next. I wonder how we are capable of loving in a minute and detesting in the next. I wonder how minutes,how time,how the striking noise of the ticking clock mount up to these memories that are irreplaceable.
Don't we all have those nights when we struggle to do something and fail miserably at it, just because all we want to do and need to do is stare at the wall? Just think of those memories and let it come rushing back to us, realising that they were never too perfect, but at least, they were happy. Like your friend getting your name wrong on your birthday cake, like spell-errors or auto-correct mistakes in your chat boxes, like buying the best gift and finally gifting it in pieces because you took too much care but failed to notice when your hand was causing all the trouble, like driving around the city at 2 AM knowing that if you're caught,you're dead. These moments-these random,imperfect,dusty memories-are all that we live for,some times.

But time runs faster than you can think. When you're enjoying this moment right now, ten years down the line-nothing will remain the same between your friends and you and all you have is the memory. The memory that is bottled up in music,in smells,in notes,in smiles,in photographs,in gifts,in places. The people you've had your most adored moments with might not be someone you love too much. Honestly, you might hate them. But times with them are inevitably memorable and are etched in your hearts for eternity. Does that then count as love? Because honestly, they made the moment unforgettable and if wasn't for them, life wouldn't be what it is right now. And really, the best love is insane.
Time is the devil, we all ignore when we're living the moment-fully and completely. And once she's gone, you realise that time leaves behind too many scars that you left unnoticed just because you were so happy-too glad to feel anything but the wholeness of the moment, its infinity and its superiority.
And once you know that the person you were in that moment, isn't the person you are today, it won't kill you, it won't sadden you, it won't break you-it'll make you glad. Glad that you grew-for the better or for the worse-that you're no more that person. And so the memory will be stark because when you're not the same person as you were in the moment, you'll just hold on to the memory and build a world with all the tiny bits and never feel the same way you felt in that moment-making the memory all the more important because you'd love to remember how you felt-how happiness felt,how being loved felt.
That's the magic of little moments, they're complete,imperfect,beautiful,happy, and an infinity of their own and when we realise that life is just about these moments, we're living in every moment we think of these memories. We're whole just because these are definitions of us-nothing will ever complete you like your memories do-because they're pieces of you that you've left behind and will never find anywhere else except in that air-tight space where you've bottled up these memories for an eternity.