Last Poem

The words flow at 4 am
My wildest hour is upon me
I'm buried in a mountain
Of unfamiliarity
Assignments
New friends
Old insecurities

And my eyes search for you

I will never see you again
I didn't get to say goodbye.
Do you know that you moved me?
You brought me closer to myself

Your absence is familiar
It is how it should be
This is my farewell
My thoughts will keep finding you
My heart will not be still
There is still a sense of being unfinished

Despite it all,
This is my final rendition
The articulation stops here.
At the end of this poem.

Paradox

I was bound 

And battered

Scarred by what I saw

Ravaged by the inaction

In myself and the system

I had words then

High and mighty

Virtuous and stirring

But no outlet

No pedestal

I'm not bound anymore

The trauma is just a ghost memory

The nightmares have turned into a dreamless void

And words fail me.

Infinity Room

Inside my mind
Is a memory palace

To the left where you enter
Up the marble staircase
Past the grand piano
Next to the bookcases
Is a room full of you

The room is full of light
Like you
It has hard corners
Like you
I want to paint it with the hues of the mountains we shared

The furniture is burnt wood
With pigeonholes
Every nook is crammed
With a time
A moment
A look
Between us
It is filled with half thoughts
Of love
And abandonment
In equal measure

The ceiling is a mirror
And the floor too
It is an illusion of an endless array of burnt wood shelves
Infinity is imagined
Infinity is infallible
As are we.

If you lose yourself
Come find me
I'll stitch you up
Good as new
Maybe you'll be true then
Maybe you'll still be a construct of my mind.

Amuse

The melting indolence in your voice is enough
The gentle tug of your finger
The lazy roll of almost closed eyes
The after taste of Marlboro
The illusive insistence of permanence.
The amusement at being a muse.
You're enough.

Occupy

Blast that music so loud
I can't hear myself think
Play that video
Read that book
Swim that length
Run so fast
Run

Run from today.
Get to tomorrow
Then run from that too.

Apricity

Apricity: n. The warmth of the sun in the winter

I was reminded of the joy of learning a new word today by my dear Shreya. The word also started a train of thought that I'm unable to shake many hours after. It splintered off into unrelated territories, much like these trains usually do. The gist of it: why is warmth always sought? Why can we not be uncomfortable for a while? If you are plunged into darkness, do you need to immediately seek light? It would be interesting to explore it, try to scare oneself, get the heart racing. One could then dive into their own darkness and seek enlightenment by introspection. 

It is wonderful to feel warmth in winter. But only because the misery of the cold is well remembered in one's bones. I wish you apricity today and in life. 

Solace

The dimensions of being are defined by time and love
When I remember the decade past,
What comes to me isn't
The sting of heartbreak
Or the sway of passions
I am only reminded of who I loved then
Strange as that is, I can say
I will remember you
Ten years from now
And smile.