Simmer

a rumble,
a growl,
a hiss

claws,
stalks,
echoes,

Simmer and wait for slow boil, till then-

a rumble,
a growl,
a hiss

claws,
stalks,
echoes,

 repeat-

Again, and again, and again

It happens quickly and slowly at the same time,

it's a torrid and beautiful affair, that transcends all logical and scientific explanation. 

You were there. 

in your splendid disastrous glory,

for a faction of a second,

You were there. 

and my heart skipped a beat,

jumping, tilting of the axis

 like a sailor going overboard-

called, coaxed, entranced by the siren of the sea.

You are the siren of-

(Would saying 'my sea' be cheesy and totally uncalled for?)

You are the siren of the sea.

(There, that gives you an omnipotent mysterious air, that you had always strived for, no?)

but you're gone. and it doesn't make sense.

that even just the hint, even a very misplaced

and misguided hint,

Years, and years, and years,

sends my head into a spiral mess of emotions, 

my heart into a disarray of mis-tempo-ed beats, 

cause you're gone.

but i'm still in love with you.

Just a lil more

Shaking Hands, Trembling Fingers and-

Grasping, Clenching, and-

Hold.

I don't need a reason to kill myself, I need a reason not to.

I could die at any moment, the tragedy is that I don't.

What you want to see, and when you actually see it

There's a difference between believing in something and actually living it.

No matter how many times one can sprout sayings, argue beliefs and understand a set of morals, one can not truly understand what it is to actually live by them.

For days now, I've been trying to live by a mindset: See the world not as it is, but as it could be.

and let me tell you this, it's harder than it looks. To follow this. 

Cause when the whole world is being negative and just against you, it's hard to assume the possibility of positivity. when bad simply fills up your vision, it's hard to see the small acts of good. when all around you is pain, you can't believe there is relief.

All these weeks, you've been in pain and hurt, and no matter how many salves you use, there's still a sting. and only now, you've figured out that maybe it was because you were holding back, because you were preparing yourself, because you were afraid.

Afraid that people would leave again. Afraid that people would look at you, and think. "Meh, I could do better.". Afraid that you aren't enough.

and although, your other friends have helped mend you, it's these that you are still afraid of.  not that you're not afraid of the other friends leaving you. but these are the ones you are deathly afraid, cause they don't know you, as you are, 

the dark shadow that lives in the crevices of your mind

the morbidly grey morale that seeps into all the decisions you make

and also the sinister sadistic tyrant that lives in between all the smiles you give.

but there are moments, though. moments when you can believe in it. 

it comes with an easy laugh, a lowering down of defences, and an open conversation. It's when you let go of the possibility of them leaving you, from just a glimpse, at how truly irrevocably broken you are.

it's when you actually do,

see the world, not as it is, but as it could be.

  

Dreams and Desires

You're there again,

in a little corner, of sorts, where you used to hide.
a place where you could always run to and disappear,
an old place that by no means mean anything to you,
except that it's quiet and nobody's there and you can do whatever you want.

read, write, think.
whatever you want.

you haven't been there since..
well, it's been a while,

the same tables, the same chairs,
the same chip on the tile, the same marks on the same whiteboard
everything is the same as before...

this place preserved by time,

and you're there with your sling bag, and converse shoes, and your shirt and ripped jeans,
and it's like looking in a window of the past, as you paw through your bag,
as usual, reaching for a book.

when you hear it, a disturbance in the silent solace,
a shift in the air and in the quick skip of your heart-
you know.

you know, as you turn around and see
disheveled hair, skewed glasses,
smirk in tact.

you see him

you see his fingers stretched out for you
as his digits move forward and reaches for you
and in a short few seconds, your eyes meet his, and you can

feel him.

his hands cradling your face, and his thumb drawing circles on your cheek,
and it's all him

and you want to tell him, you want to speak to him, you want to hold him
but you can't.

cause this was before,
not now
this was then,
not now

'cause dreams are the epitome of our true heart's desire'

and he's always been yours-

and always will be.

How to Breathe

"Take a breath"

 it feels odd, as this air-like concoction seep down the trachea, and-

"hold it in for a while"

-I what? hold it, as in let it pilfer your lungs and what?-

"now slowly let it out"

-SLOWLY let it out, bit by bit, just breathe out slow-

oh. wow.

and suddenly- relief.

tension and stress, thoughts and insecurities dimmed down..

streams and neverending voices turn to a slow focused trickle..

and it's funny really, how out of all the exercises and meditation, it's this that reminds you how to breathe,

so you put it back into your mouth, and finally

breathe.