Wish I could remember/Wish I could forget

Wish I could remember
the soft strokes of
my mother’s fingers
in my hair.

Wish I could forget
his hands,
strong as a tree trunk
But not so friendly, or kind.

Wish I could remember
The way you looked,
at the moon; and me.
And joked just to hear me laugh.

Wish I could forget,
the day you made me cry
like everything we had built
had fallen apart.

Wish I could remember
The pixies I would look for
Out in the garden, after
every Enid Blyton story.

Wish I could forget
The demons that I found
When looking for pixies
didn’t go so well.

Wish I could remember
the cracks in your voice;
and the way you look
when you read.

Wish I could forget
that I know how you look
when you are angry
or sad.

Wish I could remember
the way my best friend said
that I was the best thing
to ever happen to mankind.

Wish I could forget
the morning we both cried
Fighting, pain and cruelty.
And the desire to stop.

Wish I could remember
the patterns on your palms
Of lines that I simply
could not count.

Wish I could forget
the wounds on my palms
Picking pieces of broken glass.
Will you just stop loving me one day?

Wish I could remember
what not knowing felt like
why is wisdom
so painful to gain?

Wish I could forget
The never-ending coldness
of hearts that proved to me
how I could not save them, with my love.

Wish I could remember
The words of prayer, that you
whispered for me today
With tears in your eyes.

Wish I could forget
The terrifying things
that my mind screams at me
About the universe, and you.

For us,
everything hangs in the balance.
But high above in the stars
Someone is waiting
for us to just look up.

“HOME”

(Disclaimer: Not a traditional poem but I think it’s closer to the spoken word poetry category)


“HOME”

Decade, upon decade; I tell fate
Being loved by strangers catches me off guard,
Surprises me- “Is this what it is supposed to feel like?”
Is it really like they show in the movies?
Sisters, brothers, fathers and mothers
Is home really just people, who know and even care
about which side of the bed you like most.

Oh, I wouldn’t know, so don’t ask me how.
The only home that I have ever felt
lives outside of my house.
Out there, separated; from my blood.
Because on the genetic code map in these cells,
somehow, home was never marked.

I am sorry, dear home, for getting scared so easily
Not knowing where to go when you are not in my sights.
For I am still learning, how to receive all this love
that you so freely give me
As though I am actually as amazing as you say.

I try to hold on to the little amount these walls taught
Here, love was hiding and shutting up.
But then again, you are not like these walls.
You are kinder and you care.
You actually know which side of the seat I like most,
and how I sleep talk or “sleep type” sometimes.

I chuckle, and then sigh as I walk back inside
and these walls are still as cruel as before I met you.
I’m about to whisper to fate:
“Please make this stop, before I forget how to give love too.”
But I don’t, I can’t.
Cause you’re looking right at me
Smiling across the room.

And we both know, we finally understand
this is what home feels like.

“MIRACLES”

Miracles are not always loud and close.

Not always mountains that crumble to the ground
or ships that sail with high winds against them.

No, no, no.

In all actuality, miracles are often found
sipping coffee in the background
as you scream and fight with your fate.

They are waiting for you to stop for a moment and look around.

And many a times, they come to you
but you are too large-eyed to look at something that seems so small.

Your belittling drives them away.

But friend, if only you knew how many miracles touched you
on just how many rainy days;

you would not have been feeling so alone.
There just was no way.


Somewhat poetic, somewhat random. Mostly just fragments from a coffee-driven brain. ^-^ Hope you liked it!

Threads #29

“I don’t think we should restrict our love to only humans that prove themselves to us. 

Instead, we ought to keep and give love to all that has even a little bit of life in it. 

For the universe, my friend, has it’s own special way of loving us right back.”

Read more “Threads

Beautiful Things.

I promised myself I would post more, right after I wrote this which kinda explains why I was so lost for so much time. So I looked through the memos in my phone and found two small pieces that I think will make you happy. I hope you like them! 🙂

Here is the first:post-2

And the second, to make sure it ends in hope, always:

post-1