I imagine the sun settingflowingdropping into the crease of buildings
A mellow skyline, pink and rose and yellow and blushing
I imagine everyday beauty
I am inside a small room and I never go out.
My house is only two storeys high
My ambition no higher
I crave the softness that comes with smallness
All I taste is the gap I never even dream to remove someday
I often wonder what other dots in the web are doing
It glitches my mind and I get disconnected
I bet it’s beautiful outside
Even the high-rise residents can’t jog at their beautified parks
I wrap my arm around my pillow
Take a deep breath
I am herenowalwaysforever
I pick a movie to watch
The deadlines can wait
The dead lines aren’t waiting
They’re piling up at riverbanks
I’m still at home playingwatchingignoring a movie
I’m too afraid to murmur a premature thanks
I stare at the ceiling
My spotify is wailing
The only thing moving is the fan.
The screen flashes into ecstatic noises
I throw a pillow to suffocate it and it groans
It’s a new smartphone, but no wonder not wise
Did he say yes, or no?
The notifications lie stagnant under the pillow
My heart’s beating loud and I’m warm
So is my phone
Under the pillow it waits for my expectant palm
I can’t bear to take it out but I stare at it
My entire room throbbing in anticipation
Even the lizard on the wall pauses to take a look
And I start to lose all my patience
Yes, yes! He likes me too
Oh, to be online and in love!
I kiss the screen
And start typing
It’s virtual, but real enough.
I hate that I love myself Even when I can’t. At me the looking glass gapes With a shadow as lifeless As the idol’s eyes in the temple Looking straight beyond me When I once used to pray
I hate that I look at the glass Harder and harder Trying to imagine myself into An aesthetic self A wise woman A smiling soul Bubbling with joy With a contagious smile
I hate that I make myself believe I need not be anyone else My reflection is flawed but never me Only the glass could be purer Oh I couldn’t be surer
But I hate that I don’t love myself As soon as my coerced conception Breaks into pieces The illusion shattering into shards of glass Piercing me everywhere And I’m back again
Stranded in the dark alley Sitting with my knees bent Drenching in the never ending rain.
The sun sleeps on your amber skin
The classroom turns into a raj darbar.
Erasers are now ivory eggs
Your calculator, a sceptre
Books shine like parchment scrolls
As the evening gold pours in through the window.
Maybe one scroll reads about
The famous beauty of the kingdom next door
Whose father, the King, wishes you to
Ask her hand in marriage.
Another is a threat
From a powerful Emperor
Who has his eyes on
One of your prosperous towns.
Another one a signal of truce
With some other neighbouring land.
Your beautiful sincere brow
Deepens into a thoughtful frown
The sun smouldering in your honeyed eyes
Your lean fingers curling around your chin.
Every eye is fixed on your pondering face
Each slight movement that you make
Makes my heart race.
In a moment you begin to compose
Not verses for me nor prose,
But letters in reply;
And you hand them to your messenger.
Finally you look at me
Butterflies flutter in my belly
As I lower my eyes, my cheeks burn
You reach out your arm
Is that a blood red rose for me?
The sun has set,
Through the big window I see
The sky draping its night robe inch by inch
I suddenly flinch as I find
It's just a pen that you returned to me;
My test sheet lies blank on my desk.
I can't help but feel vexed.
My mind needs some rest!
Forgetting is silly
When you keep echoing
What’s-it-called what’s-his-name what-was-I-saying
In every conversation once twice thrice
But it’s all nice
Nobody minds it, really
You might forget who you met
(Maybe it was someone not that great)
Or the name of the person you’re talking to
And cover it up with a smile or two;
Forgetting is nonchalance
A disrespectful indifference, a lack of sense
When you fail to do what they asked of you
Simply because you didn’t remember to
An irresponsible fool
Who agrees to
Run errands, and evades doing them
It’s natural that you’re to blame;
Forgetting is confusion
A blurring of your youthful vision
When you can’t remember
The goals that centre
Your lousy little life-
What to live for, what to live by?
Jumbled up to-do lists and half-done work
Failing to pick up where you left off.
Forgetting is absolutely wretched
It may fill you with a blunt dread
When you can’t remember
What the hell is supposed to make you feel
Something. Nothing? Anything!-
To make you dance, to make you sing
There’ll be something that you can almost feel
But you might just forget what it is.
Forgetting, I say, is worse than loss.
Forget me not, forget me not.
mimimusing 