They say “home is where the heart is”. Many will go on to the extent of saying home and house are different. House refers to bricks and buildings whereas home contains people- people whom we call our family. This much we all know.
Not just a thing on school syllabus or the editorial of a newspaper , I believe essays are not just merely an form of writing or a tool to analyse an topic but as an scope to look to the world, to challenge an idea . The very form of debate with yourself, but you may disagree. Let’s change that, shall we?
I saw you and I never knew
How much would it cost to have you
I gave up on everything
Since I could feel you
The path I chose
The ways I took
To love you was something
I could have never thought of
Nothing I found, before you
Like you were the one I was waiting for
The way you came in me was unimaginable
Love, partners and soulmates
were just words to me before you
And then you were the one for everything
I could have never thought of
For you weren’t just an addiction then
You were more than everything
I had been sober for years and
I wasn’t prepared for you even
But it’s like
From the very first puff of yours
You had me completely
I was out of senses I guess
That I loved and continued
For I thought of a forever
That doesn’t exist anymore .
Writing a waltz should have been effortless. The pen should move around the pages as dancers move around the ballroom. Thoughts should come with a fluency of the heart! Then why do I stumble?
Sometimes I wonder if life could be like a waltz! Easygoing, fluent, musical!
Yet at every step I seem to trip, wait, stumble and look around. I see people dancing smoothly through the ballroom of life- effortlessly, rhythmically. Yet I seem to stand there alone. Still waiting for a question- will you dance with me?
Other questions arrive and along come compliments too: what beautiful shoes you have got! Want to have a round with me? You dance really good! But never the same one I search for- will you dance with me?
So I walk around the corner, in my beautiful blue shoes- admiring the cherry trees enveloping us. I realise it is always spring if we start walking…until we get the perfect question and start dancing!
Then only spring of life turns into a spring waltz!
I pushed my heart off the top
the building and called it death by
free fall is beautiful and heartbreak
you see he told me that love is
maybe like a summer dream,
hot and sweltering half baked in the
sun in hues of sepia and vintage tones,
like the polaroids I love so much.
but when the sun has set and the
midnight hues of black sets in,
love often turns into a war cry that
I smoke in my throat to feel the
ashes burn my tongue and his
name an aftermath of the battle,
battered and bruised.
there is melancholy in the air,
an undercurrent of regret that
makes my lungs feel full.
my heart is heavy with the
words that I bury in my throat,
the letters seep with the anger
I can rarely hide.
regret is a visceral being that
breathes down my spine,
chilling my bones and
making me numb.
love was not supposed to be this.
it was supposed to be a 90’s pop song
that I play in the vinyl record on
a rainy afternoon.
now love has turned into a tragedy
that will put even Shakespeare
free fall is beautiful.
but now death of this love will feel
Under the shower, I scrub the sponge against my skin, a little too hard.I don’t want his trace, his smell. I don’t want to do anything with him.I’m not guilty, I should be, but I feel wildly free.I didn’t do anything wrong.
It hurt. Looking at her hurt.
There is a pretty moon up in the sky that is aloof and it looks down at all of us. I sometimes wonder if she and I are staring at it together.
Every once in a while you’ll be flipping channels or meandering through the tabs of netflix suggestions, and you will stumble upon a film that takes you back to your childhood – and the child-like wonder that accompanied it. After 3 decades, as well as numerous (inferior) sequels and remakes, the original Superman(1978) is still the one we turn to, for benchmark.Continue reading “This was Superman”