3. It Was only ever Fiction

People are like the ocean.

There’s too much of it

and few times it lingers

in your head,

sometimes, in your heart.

It ebbs and flows,

like tides.

If it clings on to you,

remember that water evaporates

and in the end,

you have only yourself.

If you cling on to the ocean

anchor yourself.

Don’t be swayed and swept away

easily.

The ocean will hurt you

and you cannot hurt it back.

I’m attempting these prompts with Parvathi over at Queen Talks and these prompts, “The Lonely Astronaut” were set by Amanda Torroni and Tyler Kent White.

I was heavily inspired by a few things for this poem. I’d had a conversation earlier with Parvathi and part of it was inspired by that. There was a poem in the book Slammed by Colleen Hoover and that poem portrayed the ocean in a negative shade. I’d tried that out. I’m pretty pleased but I’m not sure if I conveyed my feelings so properly as I wanted to.

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#Novemberfalls 3. Spoondrift

like waves, people come

and go. they will leave a mark

erasing old ones

but you remember them. on

your skin, your sheets. in your heart.

Oh, I love the word. Spoondrift. Sounds so magical and romantic. I haven’t done justice to the prompt, but maybe one day, I’ll write a better one.

Since Parvathi and I doing this together, I feel so much enthused to write poems. Go check out her blog! She’s amazing ❤

Come, sit with me

I know we belonged to the past

and I know for sure that

I was never your future.

I just wish that the present

was longer so that I

could dig deep into you

and see you.

know you and try and strip away that facade you have on

I want to see you and your dark secrets

the desires that you’re scared of wanting

dreams that keep you up at night.

what’s the story behind that bright scarlet belt which reflects your inner personality?

come, sit with me

and tell me

everything.

the things that make you smile and the things that make tears stream down your cheeks

your first best friend

your first fight with your sibling (do you even have any?)

your first love

and your first heartbreak.

tell me everything.

I wrote this in class becasue I was feeling too sleepy. It was a really chilly weather, the warm-sweater-and-hot-tea-at-the-window-staring-at-the-rain types. Oh well.

#21. White, Milk, Black

If chocolate lovers can love all kinds of chocolate,

the bitter black, the sugary sweet white

and the perfect milk,

why can’t they learn to love people

the same why?

If that happens, maybe there is hope for

racism to be completely

obliterated. Love can bloom.

Finally.

Just a little experiment.

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and Me.

#21. There’s nothing poetic about that

I look at you,

you look away.

I turn my nerves into steel

and walk over to you to talk to you

about how beautiful the weather is today!

About that book you’re holding.

About you.

But, fuck you.

This isn’t a damn game

where I chase you and chase you and chase you

and you run away so fast that

the dust catches fire and sucks out

all the breath in me.

 

#16. Christmas in the City

I sit in the cafe, waiting.

There are board games around and

I see Christmas decorations are up already.

I sit in a comfy cushiony chair

and stare at the door.

Nobody comes,

nobody leaves.

I hate that you are on hibernation mode in Winter.

I never get to see you.

I need a break from life. My poems are getting crappier and crappier by the day.