Exhibition

Words bleed out of my mouth
without my concern,
Keep leaving this body
with no hint of return.

I’m the master
of breaking my own heart,
with weird thoughts
and shattered hope
I keep tearing myself apart.

You can see me
painting canvas,
but it’s not me.
My scars are on exhibition
I don’t want them to be.

People come to me
saying,
You’re art inside out.
I can’t help,
Smiling,
I just wonder and doubt.

Autolalia

Your heart was a hurricane
soul was a vast sea,
I miss the old times
when your words were free.
Layers on layers of impair
what have you become?
Let me hear this story
sit here, come?
Talk to me, tell me
where all of this went wrong?
I’m here to listen
even if it’s infinitely long.
You’re the closest to me
why still feels miles apart?
I know it hurts
we share the same heart.
Even in summer
your smile is cold as snow,
I never left during storms
I know, you know.
When I was painting sunsets
you were busy looking for rain,
I tried to show you spring
but you kept looking for pain.
It hurts my heart to see you
keep roaming here and there,
I yelp at your scars
but mostly cry over the tied hair.
I have always been here
please try to see,
Together we can acquire anything
I just need you, us and we.
I have lived with you
in between your screams,
cried for your laughter too.
I have always loved you in silence
because I know you.

~Me to me.

Caged

I was devastated
when he asked me to leave,
A proclamation,
really hard to believe.

After giving me the sky,
he cut off my wings,
I never thought,
things would be, just things.

Not that I am afraid
of being alone,
But can’t believe
a heart can be, just stone.

Of course we were different,
He came here, just to roam.
I got bewitched with magic,
Misunderstood him as home.

~Mermaid.

Clichés

You asked what I have to offer?

Well nothing much.

Few poetries, painted pots
and your sketches on
coffee dipped sheets.
Weird music, witty remarks
and book stores
of nearby streets.

Few jars of nutella,
breakfast dates,
And wind chimes
on your gates.

We both know
I’m not going to stay.
I promise not to leave
your world, pale and grey.

You’ll start to know metaphors
maybe fall for cliches too?
Love is not supposed to hurt
I will prove this to you.

I promise you’ll learn to go out,
whether it’s summer or snow.
Rain will stop stealing your smile,
I’ll teach you to paint rainbow.

A letter to Death.

Not a trigger alert, it’s more sort of a love letter. Makes sense?

I am actually writing this letter to narrator of ‘The Book Thief‘ by Markus Zusak.

(For writing this book, Markus Zusak have a part of my heart)

It’s obvious to fall in love with characters, but here, I’m in love with narrator instead.

I will try my best to not to ruin the book for you.

___________________________________________

Dear death,

You said you notice colours before people and you had me there. I want you to know, you are my favourite narrator in the history of forever and I have written a poem on you too.(Click here).You showed me your world, suffering and dilemmas, you showed me the pure heart of death. I had a strong feeling of resentment towards you, but you made me know, you are not the faulty one here. You are alone, but not worse.

Sometimes you were so melancholic, I wanted to rip open the words and enter your world, to hold you, to embrace you for a while, I wanted to comfort you so bad. I wanted to stay with you in between my breath. You are the one for whom I would write words without space, because I know how much those blank spaces hurt you and you know how much they scare me.

I’m not sure about people, but I don’t hate you or envy/pity you. I treasure you, for who you are. I believe in everything you said, cried with you at times and lived through your words.

I appreciate you, I really do.
And I’m haunted by humans, just like you.

Yours,
Mermaid.

The dive

She told me it was heavy
to carry around all the hate,
All of her organs were suffering
Under that eerie weight.

For her, it was like sinking down
the ocean of her own dreams,
Instead of water, grief was running
through her heart, polluting the streets.

A soul so full of hope
roaming around like a butterfly,
She asked me to make her laugh
till it really feels safe to cry.

In the strands of her hair
I saw some tickling magic,
And I want her to know;
You are going to swim through sorrows
Even if this dive feels tragic.