Silence (27 of 30)

My silence seems to be a chainsaw
slowly sawing through my throat
and it seems to be a jail
I’ve locked myself into, but
I don’t really feel like leaving.
Because even as it cuts me open,
it sews me shut and I’m glad.
I know I’m not suppose to do this,
but here I am.
Here I am.
Here I am, head barely attached to my body,
demons crawling out of me,
here I am.
Silent, and as long as
I’m not entirely unhappy,
I guess I’m in a good place.
I guess silence is like a nice place
to settle down in.
I guess, here I am.

Sorry if this poem appears on 28th, I had some technical problems and the poem was deleted, I think. Thanks! x


Lead (26 of 30)

Your eyes remind of the virgins hues
of silver and your body reminds me of pure
gold because most people stop looking the
moment they see your flesh, but
your heart is like lead, dull to the
touch but warm and welcoming no matter
what, yes, your heart is always like lead.

Episode 5: The Muse Striketh Back (25 of 30)

You never warned me.
I mean, that’s the least you could do considering that our relationship is profit for you.The first time I read your poetry, I wasn’t that shocked
that you wrote about us- more about how you lied. And you can deny it all you want, you can play the victim with all your friends, but just know that when I read your poetry- I know the truth.
Maybe if you had warned me, I wouldn’t have cared that you took our story and turned it into a cheap drama.
But now? I think I deserve my chance to speak up. Remember when you threw your phone at me? Remember when you told my mother I was bipolar? Remember when you made out with my best friend?
Yeah, I guess I was the villain. I was the one who ‘broke you’, the one who ‘shattered your ribcage’, the one who ‘took your love and gave you nothing’. Fuck you.
You and your metaphors can both go rot. I am not your dark sky, your snake, your cloud, your murderer, your shard of glass or your last love.
Maybe if you had told the truth about us, I wouldn’t have been mad. Maybe if you hadn’t left me for him, I wouldn’t be mad.
Maybe if I wasn’t still hung up on you, I wouldn’t be mad.
But I am.
Fuck, I am.

Honestly, You’ll Burn

Honestly, you used make me want to shred my ribcage
just to make it easier to show you my heart.
Honestly, the last time I saw you,
it felt like lightning had struck.
You didn’t even look at me then.
Honestly, I have been so infatuated
for the past few months that
every time you hit a roadblock,
every time you sentenced yourself to hell,
I resurrected you.
I resurructed you like the fool I was,
I was willing to look past it all.
Honestly, I was being delusional,
honestly, I just wish you were honest.
I just wish you were there for me,
I just wish you hadn’t given me hope.
Honestly, I just wished you had kicked me
at the start of this all instead of waiting,
instead of waiting and letting me slowly crumble.
Imagine how different this would have turned out.
Imagine how I would have felt.
I’ve wasted the last six months thinking about your hands, your lips, about you and honestly?
I’m over it.
Lightning is no longer striking my heart,
it’s striking you dead instead, and
honestly, I hope you burn.
If you hadn’t been a coward, if you
had just made your intentions clear,
I don’t think I would be writing this.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t.
So now, every time I see you,
every time you pretend you don’t know me,
I’ll set you afire.
Because honestly? You’ll burn as easily as paper, as wood,
you’ll burn in an instant because
talk is cheap, talk isn’t made to
withstand my wrath, and
since that’s all you consist of, yes, you’ll burn.
And honestly? I can’t wait.


Here we are, clashing
furiously on our
principles- I’m an
unstoppable force, you’re
an unmovable object
and things like
what you did that day,
where you made
proclamations about
someone you didn’t
even know, this is giving
me the drive to keep
going, things like
this are going to
mean the end for
you, because I’m
pushing hard and you’re
bound to move soon,
and when you do,
maybe you’ll realize
how the constant
judgement feels, maybe
you’ll realize that you’ve
had it easy all these
years and maybe you’ll
realise that you’ve
been in a position
of privilege, maybe
you’ll see that I’m
here to even the
playing field


Yesterday, I was attempting
exponentiation and I
realised that in my life,
though I have a finite
number of problems, they
all have the same
variable; you. Isn’t it funny
that though we done
talk often anymore,
you’re still making
such an impact in
my life. Day before, when
you walked into class
it felt like lightning had
struck, you set me on fire
until you looked at me.
Your gaze dismissed me
and it was like a sudden
downpour of cold water
jerking me back to life,
dousing the fire I felt,
reminding me that we,
we are nothing and
even though you’re in
every equation of my life
I could ever make, I’m
probably only in the ones
you threw away six months
ago and never looked
at again. Isn’t it funny,
that things like maths
remind me of you, but you,
you don’t remember me
till I’m standing in front of
you and even then, you
look right through me,
even then, I don’t mean
a thing to you. A month
ago, you tried to keep me
around, (to keep your
options open, I suppose),
And I guess today,
the curve I’m tracing is
no longer following
your equation,
and I guess today,
I no longer want
to be an option,
I guess today, I’m
just not seeing you
in my textbooks anymore


The clash of my
bangles is heard
as I rush down
the stairs,trying
to wear my jhumkas
while holding my
lehenga so that
I don’t trip and my
mother tells me
to hurry, because
she needs me to
hold the gift, some
mithai for the lucky
couple, along with
a delicate dinner
set. When my
grandmother sees
me, she beams,
telling me that
Indian clothes suit
me and I smile
because no matter
how many times
she tells me, I’m
always in jeans the
next day, I’m always
firmly in my comfort zone.
At the wedding,
old Bollywood songs
play, and waiters
move in-between
the crowds with
every single possible
food that can be
eaten from a toothpick.
Relatives I haven’t
seen in years tell
me that I’ve grown up,
that I’ve lost weight,
that I look beautiful.
I smile at them
over and over
again till my face
feels like its set in
stone. They do not
realise. They tell me,
I look beautiful.
The rest of the night
passes in a blur with
a few snapshots
engraving themselves
into my memory.
When I reach home,
I take off my earrings,
and half asleep already,
I slip into my pajamas.
Tomorrow will be
another event, another
outfit, another
profanity muttered to
myself. I fall asleep,
dreaming of my jhumkas,
dreaming of my
wedding, dreaming of
the future.

Jhumkas- earrings
Lehenga- traditional Indian dress
Mithai- Indian sweets


It’s been two and
a half years, some
people call you my
lover now. But we
both know that’s a
lie, that’s an exaggeration
because this love, this
love is not reciprocated.
Well, some people may
disagree but I know
the truth, I’m simply the
person you fall back on,
the person you rely on,
the person who will
always be there. On
the other hand, its been
two and a half years and
your feelings are still
uncertain, still a maybe,
still not enough to
make you care about me.
Mostly, I’m okay with it,
I’m used to the silence,
the butterflies, the love
with no reciprocation, but
sometimes the uncertainty
gnaws at my heart, and
collects and forms that
lump in my throat, and
triggers my flight mode the
moment I look at your face,
and lately, all that goes on
traces back to you,
everything is a path that
leads my mind to your
eyes, and I’m sorry, but
the uncertainty might
just be too much.

The Happy Days

Everybody talks about the bad days. They tell each other that everybody has them, that it’s okay to feel terrible, its okay to be angry sometimes. The days where nothing goes right are the days people are allowed to be sad. The general advice is :
•wear your favourite clothes
•eat ice cream
•dont go on social media
•watch your favourite movies
•read your favourite books etc.

The lists for how to survive bad days are uncountable, but how come nobody warns you about the happy days? The days where everything went right, but at the end of the day you still felt terrible. The happy days you couldn’t sleep . The happy days- when you’re supposed to be happy and you try your best but there’s this hollow pit in your stomach. The happy days when you just want to cry.

Nobody warns you that sadness is irrational. Nobody tells you how to take care of yourself when you come back from an amazing party where you enjoyed yourself, but the moment you’re alone there is a lump in your throats.
So these are for the happy days that still are terrible :
•wear your favourite clothes
•eat ice cream
•dont go on social media
•watch your favourite movies
•read your favourite books

Know that you’re allowed to feel sad for no reason. Know that sometimes, you can have days which had amazing moments but still made you feel like shit. Sadness is sometimes irrational. It’s alright to be sad. Just survive.

This Is Not My Voice

Lately, my voice has
not been my own, my
inadequacy has been
the one speaking, and
there always seems
to be a lump in my
throat, I am choking.
Choking on air,
choking on life,
choking on me.

But I guess this is
how it works, right?
People move on,
people leave, people
don’t care, like you,
who doesn’t care
about my words.

So I guess this is
me saying I’m
drowning, me saying
I feel like I’m shouting
myself hoarse in an
empty desert, me
saying ‘sorry. I know
you want to leave, and
you can.’ This is me
wishing I could leave
myself behind.

Lately, my voice has
not been my own
and I have felt like
crying constantly.

Lately, I’ve been thinking
about people not
caring alot. I’ve been
thinking about him alot.
I’ve been wishing
for miracles for a
while, and this mind
of mine is driving me
to ruin and I just want
to survive, I just
want to live

So lately,
when my
inadequacy speaks,
I let it.