What does a heartbreak sound like?
Your heart is sensitive,
Does it cry loud
When broken into pieces?
Does it experience
Multiple feelings at the same time?
Does it also feel empty and heavy
At some point of time?
Yes it does.
Is it less than a sign of a heartbreak?
Is it not what sad poetry sounds like?
Yet you ask me,
What does a heartbreak feel like so
Let me tell you,
Emotions run down your spine,
Making the time go slow,
The day and the night
Are of the same length,
Old days, old memories
Get on your nerves
Sticking to your heart and soul
Just like a permanent tattoo.
The hurricane of winds
Paves their way through the
Making your mind think
Of your mistakes.
It sounds like the dusty book
That is willing to get cleaned
It’s like the dew drops
Waiting for an aura of petrichor.
Neither does it cry aloud
Nor does it stay silent.
It tells you variety of poetries
By bleeding chronicles
Of agony and distress.
It narrates the story of those dried flowers
Of the spring that urge you
To water them with purity
So that they can bloom
In the garden of love.
It’s like those unfinished tales
Waiting to complete itself.
A broken heart just resembles
The dark sky with meteors
Wanting to shine bright again
And shower the rains of happiness
Again in your life.
It feels that the sun has sunk
Forever leaving our soul in
The pool of darkness all alone.
Let me tell you,
It sounds like the heart is
Lifeless and is craving
For its life again.
Ask those who have experienced
A heartbreak by trusting others,
By putting their heart and soul on stake
They are still trying to get out of the formidable hurdles,
Candles of love and hope
Light in their heart
They’re just bearing the pain
Without uttering a single word.
The thing about pain is it’s never beautiful. You find yourself wallowing in a puddle of bitterness. So, you don’t
repulse the next time you sip that sugarless coffee. Or when you drag that unfiltered hand-rolled cigar.
The unsavoury doesn’t concern
you anymore. Because it runs in
your veins like blood.
You don’t cry nostalgically for happiness, because you have never been to its place. You crinkle like a paper
in a fist and cry quietly, but not for yourself; for the blue sky, so breathtaking yet sad, like poetry.
You drink poison hoping to die, but instead, it finds an abode inside you. There’s a flower in your garden that bleeds green; it pricks you and your red turns everything into yellow. You turn to art, thinking, it’ll rescue you from your malady. And that’s when you realise; art isn’t going to heal your scars, it’ll just make them more presentable.
We are not born to die! What are you talking about; do you think a book begins just to finish? Do you think a song opens with a beautiful chord just for it to end? You don’t read the book to finish it, you read the book to eat up the excitement and the emotions it evokes. To learn and to digest and to fall in love and be heartbroken. You listen to the song to dance and dance and sing your throat raw. To cry and smile and swell with the harmonies. Yes, we are born with the inevitable fate of death, we are mortal after all, but that is merely the finale of the play; the final act, the closing of the curtains. We are not born to take a bow and exit stage left; we are born to love and be joyous and yell and move and learn and cry and feel, feel, feel!
We are not born to die, silly, we’re born to live.
Take your time to rest. The world has put too much on your plate. You don’t have to eat everything. Remember what you don’t like. Remember what hurts your stomach. Remember what you are allergic to. Remember what isn’t good for your heart. Hold this knowledge close, think, reflect, savour and choose to let go when your heart is full.
Be silent for your own sake. You have already taken responsibility for too many wars. Your skin is chipping away to someone else’s ruin. Save it for the rest of your world.
The world has put too much on your plate, you don’t have to deal with it all at once.
Craving for some fresh air can come anytime
And my sleep cycle is anyway messed up enough
Getting out of my house
Walking on the road, just drenched in the rain
It’s a good weather maybe
Maybe it’s the way of nature having her own breakdown
These maybes are killing me right now
The n number of possibilities running in my mind
In the Hustle bustle of my own
I hit the vacuum or maybe some whitespace of absolute nothingness
As I look down the road…
“Are we parallel lines?”
Meeting at no point?
Just like some railway track
But walking by each other’s sides
With the same passion and love
Now all of a sudden all I want is this road to merge
And this becomes my greatest urge
Cause for me it’s no more just roads or railway tracks
It’s You and I
It’s this fixed distance between us tearing me apart
I’m fighting in my head to merge or mold to make these roads concile in a single line
Seems like sleep is not the only thing I’m lacking today, its air too
Pretty glad about this soothing breeze
I was not really great at maths
But I remember coincident lines are parallel too
Just with all the points similar
Which again feels hard to attain
But I am not gonna get this single hope in vain
Or should I wait to meet at infinity?
I brushed my teeth
before I realised;
it was impossible to
get rid of the
taste of guilt.
I gulped down
glasses of water
before I realised;
you cannot wash
I tried to breathe
before I realised;
I was the one
I had a white toast
to calm my
before I realised;
you can only watch storms.
Watch as they ruin
homes, and lives, and everything.
everything they touch.
I shut my ears
listened to music
before I realised;
the thunder of my thoughts
was louder than
all the songs merged into one.
I tried to close my eyes
before I realised;
you can’t escape
from each and everything.
There are some situations where you have to accept the truth. Whom do you run to
when you’re running
Today, I learnt an important lesson from my therapist.
At the end of our hour, she told me that although I’ve been hurt and broken badly, she can see I still have parts that aren’t shattered.
I laughed lightly and I said ‘Yeah, one day that will be all of me, no parts shattered anymore”, And she said ‘No, it won‘t.”
And, for a second, I felt my heart break but she continued. “But it will be the most dominant part of you. Think of your body if you break your shoulder, even after it heals it will be tender. It will be a sore spot. You will be careful with it. There will be a gentleness when you care for it. If you crack a rib, laughing will hurt and, even after there is no longer a fracture, you may laugh lighterjust in case. You can heal, but it is okay to be aware of the parts of you that once hurt the most. The most important thing to know is that where there is tenderness, let there be gentleness.”
While I was standing alone in the darkness, this lightened lamp caught my attention. I could see my faint shadow painted on a wall by the light of this lamp. As the stormy winds were playing with the flame, my shadow was trembling too.
I watched the little lamp fight with the darkness, betraying the strength of its own and also the depth of the darkness. The blowing breeze tilted the triumph towards darkness, and from the struggle of the shivering flame, I could see that the lamp would die any time soon. But surprisingly, the flame got its balance back. Perhaps it was the magic of firm determination of not giving up, and now the lamp stood still against the dark in this “looking impossible to win” battle. I was astonished by the toil, the little lamp had gone through without a dwindle and I surely was impressed with the arrogant behaviour the lamp showed towards the uncanny dark. But now I think, what choice did the lamp have?
Isn’t life like this sometimes? It drags us into the battle we don’t want to fight and leaves us no choice. We can’t run away no matter how tired we are because of this war. You don’t see victory near, but that can’t be the reason you give up. The only escape way, is through.
But does the battle make us stronger in the end? I don’t know. Perhaps, I’m still in between the war. But you remember the lamp, it shone the brightest when the darkness was at its peak.
I am so tired of being strong. I’m so tired of saying that it’s okay every time someone treats me badly. I’m tired of being the bigger person and always making excuses for other people. I’m tired of constantly proving how much people mean to me when they won’t do the same.
It’s difficult, isn’t it? Having a big heart, and the ability to forgive so quickly and easily, being the one that always tries their very best to make others happy. And still getting hurt, getting taken for granted and being left behind as though you didn’t mean anything. That’s the thing about being a good person – you give yourself so many excuses to look out for others that you forget to look out for yourself.
And in the end, when they get everything that they wanted, and they start to walk away without looking back in your direction – you are the one who’s left with a hole in your chest where your heart should have been.
People are like stories.
Different kinds, different durations,
You think of some and smile.
You wish for some to always be with you.
You try to distance yourself from some.
And you try to keep some so close
that it blurs your vision.
Some feel real, others feel like a bubble blown by the sun at night.
Some hold your hand and make you feel alive,
others make you realize about
the part inside you that has
now been long dead.
You want to place the memory
of some in your wallet while
you regret meeting some.
Such is life!
Such are people!
A bug collides with your car window
And I wonder if the bug is like me
Ready to die for a chance to stare
Ready to die, if only you’d care
I find myself holding my breath
Stealing glances of your gaze
I find myself counting to ten
Each time you turn your face
I carry an extra pen
I carry an umbrella everyday
I carry an extra bottle
I carry my heart in my hand
Hoping to find your gaze
Tell me, if it all came falling
Would you wonder how I am doing
Tell me, if the world was ending Would you ask me how I am doing!
Why cant i fly away
with these winds,
like those hummingbirds
and just disappear into the horizon
and land in a new world
where it rains most of the time,
where light and hope doesn’t
come in intangible fragments.
where happiness is not
scarce like kindness in the world
Where I feel alive, where I can breathe openly.
“Humankind has not woven the web of life.We are but one thread within it.Whatever we do to the web we do to ourselves.All things are bound together. All things connect.” – Chief Seattle
These times have made the interconnectedness of life more and more apparent. The thread of life that connects you, me and everyone else. Lets embrace this fabric ; out of which we all are created and its called life.
P.s when u cant go out(which u strictly should not)..go within. Take a deep dive in your inner self and evolve!
Initially I used to wonder “Kyu Nahi ma, Saari duniya tere tarah.” This world is not much of a beautiful place as you think it is. You come to this world through one support and that’s your mother, who is your God, your creator, your lifeline. But what when your lifeline is no longer with you.
Well, since she has left life has changed drastically. My days don’t go well and my mind sometimes stays in a muddle. But you know what helps? I take out her picture, and put it aside me. I talk to her and it releases all the discomfort I face. At times I wonder what mothers are born with? A real magical power or a lap that has the purest love?
As children we always fail to understand your love but you are the only one who can love unconditionally. I guess, writers and philosophers still fail to describe mother’s love because you come in so many different shades. Wherever you are I wish you are in peace Mum. I miss you Amma is just a daily phrase now because no words can ever express how empty I feel without you.
Ending with just one line, “Kabhi ho Nahi sakti ma, Saari duniya teri tarah” .