NaPoWriMo2017 Poem 3
How to Dismantle and Turn us Into Stardust.
Miss each other on solitary nights;
belch for breath,
listening songs of delight.
Curl our toes,
and rub our eyes.
smirk at unkempt promises-
while waving off nostalgic fireflies.
or just give in to fate.
Make the habit
of not calling first,
just bathe nonchalantly
when disillusions burst.
Bookmark our chapters,
and never read our pages.
Leave the book open
till our resent, ages.
Pour water on our handwritten stories
and not rush for wipes-
let everything dissolve, who cares who cries.
and yet not know me.
and yet not see you.
Act as friends or leave us as strangers.
Try to kill each other-
having survived each other's dangers.
Hear the voices
and ignore the hmmms...
Talk about mundane okays
and lip-sync the grief we've shunned.
Talk about talking tomorrow,
a regular disillusionment-
we happily allow each other to borrow.
Ignore the missings.
Miss the ignored.
Make it a habit,
chuck everything and sleep a lil more.
We existed before our universe collided!
Damned, we'll rot into stardust-
Just ignore. Just ignore.
P.S : Inspired from How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb by U2
NaPoWriMo2017 Poem 2
Scent of a Memory
half burnt with the shadow of tears
that dried after flooding the lips
and smothering cries
that once held puddles of
mango-stained yellow laughter,
with criss-crosses of contours
of days when our hands sweated together
riddled with headaches
of haunting disappointments,
with swabs of goodnight kisses-
imaginary, irreverent, inconsequential
tired of aching for all the wrestling
and yearning to collapse into hugs,
sweaty, yet shivery-
with the fear of getting stepped on again
for getting crushed, bled, and bandaged
neglected historian of all the whispers,
hugs, warm breath and soft murmers
once bathed in the waterfall
of the scent of your shampooed hair
now riles on the nights of your lonely foetal sleeps
Scent of your memory,
like a long forgotten dream
in a cobwebbed cellar of my mind,
still scintillates in city lights,
like twinkling stars-
always there, always far.
People leave their footsteps when they walk out.
But you left seeds with me,
which turned to flowers.
And now their fragrance reminds me of you.
The one who sowed them, once.