Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Fifty Shades of me.

I will come for you as you lie awake
Squeezing your eyes shut
Oblivious that the world inside
Is sinister than the darkness you see outside

I will watch you toss and turn
You know there is nowhere you can go
Squirm and scream if you must
But I am never letting you go.

I shall revel in the knowledge
That you will always do my bidding
Tell me your deep, dark secrets
That you never want to talk about.

Give me the key to your thoughts 
Allow me to set you free
I shall be your hero
And take away all the pain

"The monsters in your head 
are frightening for the very same reason 
everyone believes they should not be, 
they aren’t real, 
because day in and day out 
you must live with the knowledge 
that your own mind is working against you, 
whispering dark things in the middle of the night, 
disobeying your desperate cries to stop, 
your own mind is a murderous adversary, 
an enemy under your own skin,
and nothing is quite so terrifying." 

Beau Taplin.

Saturday, March 12, 2016

The Crescendo!

I asked him to play tonight. I wanted to hear him play.
It was always a soothing rhythm. Something that helped me reinforce my convictions. That everything around me is wonderful. It masks out all the noise around, the thoughts gnawing at the back of my mind, on the rickety shelves I no longer bother to dust. The bottled memories often clink, trying to catch my attention. I pay no heed because I cannot afford to get lost in their scent anymore. The smell of tobacco flowers, my favorite scent. Tuberose and lily of the valley; a whiff of my comfort zone.
I was lost in thoughts. He kept playing. The music felt strange tonight. There was a subtle change which I could faintly discern. And it got better. And beautiful. It made me want to sing along with him. I was at a loss for words, I had never bothered to sing before.

The tempo was rising.I couldn't stop the tears. The music rattled the shelves and brought all the bottles down. There was a multitude of emotions, there was the green grass we once laid upon, the pretty rainbow I loved as a child, the ocean you took me to see, the stolen kisses, the big bright moon, the tight hugs and the forgotten goodbyes, the stray hair on my forehead you brushed away. There were shades of red- the cards, the balloons and the blood.

And then it started. The downpour I had been waiting for. He was playing away, blind to the waves he was sending across my way. The tears ran down my cheeks. It was beautiful, like never before. The memories which caused all the havoc stood silently watching me cry. They had finally reached out to me.

"And that’s when the meaning of the dream hit me even while I was inside its architecture: this was my psyche’s coping mechanism. For dealing with the fact that I would never have you. Sour grapes from the subconscious.
We think the longing ends. But it doesn't. It finds a new language. Sneaks on us from behind." - From Labyrinths, by Philips John.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Maybe that's us.

All credits to Vimal Chandran photography #UnpostedLetters