The Unfinished Kiss

Can we freeze this moment?
Right here.
You and me, the rains drenching us,
Hiding from prying eyes.
A heartbeat away from each other.
Every time I look at you,
I lose sight of everything else.
Around you, around me,
the past, the future
The reasons, the purposes.

All I can see is you,
Oh so beautiful! that
Beauty gapes at you in awe.
And my heart aches
For it knows not,
How long we have together.

There is an urgency
Every moment I am with you.
An urgency to compress
A hundred million years,
Into that moment, for that’s how long
I want to be with you.
Until the end of time
And beyond.

Don’t look away!
Don’t move
For the time is short.
And in that limited time I have,
I want to spend every split second,
Memorizing your face,
Memorizing how it feels,
When we embrace.

I want to hold you,
Cling on to my dear life, that’s you
For when I no longer have you,
I will need the shadows of this memory
To live through the rest of my life.
As colorless as it would be,
Your memories will be all
that could make my life a shade better.

Shh… Don’t say anything.
They are coming for us.
The moment isn’t far
When they’ll wrench you away from me.
Until then let’s kiss away our pains,
Every kiss seemingly being
The last one.

A split second later,
You vanish
Without a sound,
Just your eyes
screaming at mine.
You vanish
Without a struggle,
As an unfinished kiss
Dies on our lips.

 

I am participating in #MyFriendAlexa with Blogchatter

For Sundays

Sundays are for the things you love.

For a dip within yourself.

For the memories that made you

And specially the ones that moulded you.

***

Sundays are for you

To love yourself, unwind yourself

To scatter the pieces of you

Carelessly, mindlessly.

***

Sundays are for the pajamas,

Messy hair, bad breath,

For strewing things around

To not care what people think.

***

Sundays are for you to go back

To your childhood,

Eat, say and do what you please,

Throw a tantrum when they say no.

***

As Sundays fade,

And you replace that chipped nail paint

With a bright shade, perfect coats,

Remember how it felt to be imperfect.

Look around at the perfect clothes

High heels, groomed beards

And realize they had their Sundays too

They have their masks on too. .

.

Sundays are for yourself

Every other day must be too. .

I Played With Fire

Note – This poem is structured in such a manner that, the number of lines increases in each stanza

I once played with fire.

 

I played with fire,
Thinking, not all fires could burn me.

 

I played with fire again!
And felt its power.
To char, to destroy.

 

I played with fire.
Lured,
Ever so maliciously,
Into that deep golden glow.

 

I played with fire,
This time, too close!
Unlike moths, I didn’t die.
I lay broken, wincing.
Swearing never to return.

 

I played with fire,
But the pains vanished,
Wounds faded, hopes rekindled,
I went back.
The thing with fire and love;
You always go back.

 

I played with fire.
And I had played too much
To cry, to care,
That I began to see beyond,
The pain, the wounds.
There was a lesson.
There always had been.

 

As I played with fire,
Hopes evaporated.
The heart sunk into an abyss.
There were no oozing wounds but,
charred bones,
And the smell of an end.
The sun seemed to have set forever
As I was turned to ashes.

 

I did play with fire.
But I emerged.
Every single time. Yes!
Born from my ashes,
Renewed by my experiences.
Torn between remembering
And forgetting;
The alluring glow of the fire,
And the scorching heat.

 

When you play with fire,
It consumes you.
But listen to me!
You will emerge.
Wait if you must.
Sleep if it gives you solace.
Hold on and hold strong!
Because you will emerge!
Cleaner, stronger
More determined than ever!

 

I played with fire,
Until I became one.
~ Ranjini Sankar

 


Image Sources:
Featured Image – Here
Other – Here

The Emerald Tears

 

The skies cried.
The emerald tears
Froze on Earth.

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Note – This is a view from my window this monsoon. The water weeds & the weeds from the woods have merged to give this wondrous spectacle.

My Black Velvet Unicorn

To the world, I am invisible.
But in my eyes,
I have a world of my own.
Where right & wrong
aren’t the only options.
In my world,
there are in betweens & beyonds.
There is a right for everyone.
And the rights are all respected,
even if they’re disagreed upon.
In my world,
Infinity is just the beginning.
The difference is this.
You see me riding
The broken wooden horse,
While, in fact,
That
Is my black velvet Unicorn.

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In my world, fairy tales are real
And your world is fake.
But if you believe your world is real,
In our world,
We respect your belief.

 

My World.

 

Torn by You

I am addicted to you.
Addicted to the searing pain
Coursing through my existence
When you caress
My gaping wounds.

In your absence
I notice,
My addictions are
Tearing me apart.

When you are
Beside me,
I realize,
I enjoy being torn by you.

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Image courtesy –
abstract.desktopnexus.com