Teenage

For the first time, we met, found each other.

We had different ways or not but we stood.

At this empty old station alone, we expressed ourselves.

Shared the most valuable moments, which are never going to happen again.

We both smiled, without caring about time, with all the winter breeze, we talked.

We attached, like a soul finding its true destination after leaving a corpse.

We knew that; we knew that it’s our first and last convo, we were crestfallen inside.

Enjoying every second, the attachment was never about love; it was about deep sentiments.

We exposed ourselves to this wintry night, talked, and laughed at old jokes, enjoying every part of it.

As if it’s going to steal by misery.

The siren echoed; it was a train; a train to our paths, a train whistled;

As if silence becomes heavier than words.

The truth we held was that we were going to part; it was a short, subtle period of time.

The train still stops at two every evening, the only change is the pair of footsteps never return.

The hug of words we each other waved, become louder than us.

All I felt was like waiting for a message from someone who is no longer there.

Our Goodbye disguised in words and smile, felt like the end of a journey.

The journey was never about love, it was about us; it was about our eerie meet up.

We didn’t say goodbye,

Goodbyes hide inside ordinary conversations.

The last hug never announces itself as the last.

Places will never forget,

Neither do we.

We will live in hope to meet again, to attach again; maybe; maybe it would our destiny.

A destiny to unite, destiny to goodbye.

We weren’t saying goodbye to each other, we were saying goodbye to the people we were when we stood together.

The conversation we left, the smile we left will reunite.

It was never about a goodbye.

It was never a goodbye.

It was landmark for our destination.

A destination which has no ends, which has no goodbye.

The cloud in the sky
Is so fluffy
I wish to pick it up from the sky
And eat it
Unfortunately…
It started to cry
When I pinched it…

These shivers come suddenly,
A jolt of every emotion to be felt
Leaving me tired, alone, and wanting to melt.

These shivers shake my vision,
leaving me without an ounce of precision,
Momentarily trapping me in an endless, open prison.

These shivers are snakes,
Approaching slow,
Attacking fast,
Lightning striking a ship
And tumbling the mast.

These shivers are tasers,
Used to keep me down,
Make me behave,
But what pulls the trigger?
A finger, or a craze?

We’re in the old museum
Laughing more than looking
Who needs to see painted love
When you have the real thing?
Would you mind if I hold your hand?
The first real date
Scared of mistakes
These moments could never be planned.

Later in the night; a fancy restaurant dinner
Fresh bunch of flowers on the table
‘Can people tell we’re dating?’
Did we owe them a label?
Frozen in a photo booth
‘Can I trust you?’- and tell the truth
Two hot chocolates in the rain
Please don’t think about the train you catch
Tomorrow.

I know this day is in the past
But these words could make the memory last
And, deep down, I miss you.
Maybe I should let the colours fade
Our fate is sealed, my choice is made,
And though I know it’s true,
I wonder…

Do you still think of me at your door
Or of the twin bed on your floor
Laid out for me?
Do you ignore the temptation
Of our constellation
That you still have to see?

I find it impossible to separate
The version of you that I love
From the girl I now don’t date.

I hate the way you never listen,
I hate the way you become a victim,
I hate how your eyes always glisten,
I hate how I can’t beat your system.

I hate your negativity,
I hate your need to be right,
I hate that I feel like I’m in captivity,
I hate that I cry at night.

But most importantly I hate how I feel bad,
Or how I know I’ve made you sad.

The truth is I hate myself.

I hate my empathy,
And my need to please,
Or how I can’t be strong and how it’s been so long.
I hate me.

Home is not a place at all,
But rather the love trapped between its walls.
The warmth of a mother’s affection for her child,
The staircase where the toddler learned to crawl and climb.
The lingering aroma of tea that spreads,
The echoes of laughter of people wed.
The exquisite photograph of a family in its prime absurdity,
Where love stays for an eternity and more.
The noise of the television set at night,
And the spooky stories which used to stir up fright.
It is the people inside who willingly accept our flaws,
Or perhaps the adorable beasts with puny paws.
Home is where we come to relax,
It is the intentions of those pure souls who coax.
The rooms where we hid as kids,
The games we played on little grids.
The spots where we feel most at ease,
As we dance around, mingle and tease.
For it is a house which is made of bricks and beams,
Which eventually turns into a home with the loving people full of dreams.

The Showers of Rain.
The swaying trees, dancing beautifully.
The sky seemed unable to carry its grief any longer.
Roads shining as silver.
Winds nurturing every crystal drop.
It’s the first me drenched in rain.
Rain smiled at me with its every refreshing move.
Clearly, time slipped away, raindrops hugging me with all love.
Amidst the silence, it all feels ethereal.
I found solace in rain; the yearning for the smell filled me with grace.
Those showers were great to witness, as someone eavesdropping on their gaze.
It was profound. I was entrusted with grace by rain.
Me driving at speed, touching grit as I was in love with it.
Every drop from my eyes reminds me of it.
It reminds me of all its love.
I murmur, start to shiver; at the end.

My life flickers like a burning candle
I believe I am that very candle
The strongest at its youth but my radiance grows weaker
the longer my flame persists
Simply, I am lit for the sole purpose of spreading light to others
My question is
Where may my candle be to guide me?
And what happens when my light can bear to be lit no more?
Perhaps that is the beauty of being a candle.
The only truth that exists is that I am that very light
Guiding others with my glow.

Can I be a dazzling star far, far away from the Earth?
Can I sparkle without seeking much attention from the mortals?
Can I have my own light instead of borrowing it from someone?
Because I too have burnt all alone.
I too have endured the dark in solitary.
I too am bigger than what I seem at first.
So, can I please not be mere carbon with delusions of brilliance?
Is it too much to just exist and be admired?
To fill the skies with my presence and fall in love with the darkness this time.
To blink away all the fears inside.
To keep burning till ambitions are no longer reduced to dreams.
To be romanticized by the poets,
Loved by the astronomers,
And despised by the light?
To be the miraculous one lovers adorn,
The flickering hope sought by people forlorn,
The magical one waltzing with the moon amidst the breeze warm,
Form the twinkling Cassiopeia aligned in the galaxy so distant,
Shining brighter than the sun at dawn.
Oh! How I wish to be that luminous star for once.

Oh dear child of the stars,
do you think of him from afar.
Do you wish you had the heart?
Do you wish you hadn’t played a part?
Do you wish to travel back in time?
To redo this, to rewind.
To be fine,
to be okay.
For your star‑catchers, once shining so bright,
are now a distant earl grey.
For you always thought I was blithe,
I’m stuck here wondering
how many times you grabbed the knife.
For this was the doing of my blundering.
I can stand here and mope
or I can get up and cope.
Sadness won’t make this better,
for there’s a flicker of dawn,
though you’ve already withdrawn.
I can’t erase the past,
for it will last,
though I wish I had a chance
to start clarifying.
My tears will soon be drying,
for there is a future worth trying.