Thursday, June 24, 2010

I can write the saddest lines tonight..

The night wind turns in the sky and sings
I can write the saddest lines tonight
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too..

We've said goodbye too many times before, so there's no reason this should be any different.

He said the first time it hurt, the second time he thought it'd kill him, the third, he thought he'd kill himself so by now he was immune to the pain she caused him. They were a both a mess of their own kind and so deserved each other. He wrote her verses in Pushto, she sang to him in French. Neither understood the other but between them flew a harmony, the kind that unites a violin and a piano. They too were synced by a stranger's language which they wrote on blank paper, him always on white, her on scented cream, both in black ink. Sometimes when the letters reached her, they had been creased by a hundred fingers. His letters smelled of his cologne.
'I love you,' he said. She was too terrified to say anything.
'I love you,' she said. 'Thank you,' said he.
He wanted to kiss her but saw the tension in her jaw. Maybe she wasn't attracted to him after all. And why would she be? She was perfect to him.
She felt his breath on her face but she knew she must hold back because in her mind, insanity was allowed to one person at a time.
Caught between the right thing and what felt right. It's a miserable place to be in.
Today, again my heart calls out in desperate longing. Today, again, I distract it like a child.
How can I ever burn your letters? And how can I ever let go till I keep them?

On nights like these, I held her in my arms
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes..

One day he was kissing her neck, her collar bones. The other, he talked about the pride and honour of women. Did all men want virgins who acted like sluts with them? Or was that an indicator on the expected longevity of their relationship(?).

She never understood what he meant when he said it made him want her more. Was that his sad excuse for not putting up a fight? For not telling her to keep away from all the other men who hovered by her elbow, for asking her every time who she was going out with when her answer would always be the same, for letting go each time? She respected the fact that he had a past that he could not change, and was proud, so proud of how far he had come from where they met. He talked about all these other women who had once mattered to him. It didn't matter. He said he wanted her jealous. And then one day she was.

He remembered the days of msn, the day he claimed he was his friend and she instantly took off her display picture. He remembered that as the moment he knew he was in love.

I can write the saddest lines tonight,
To think I don't have her, to feel I have lost her,
Hear the vast night, vaster without her
Lines fall on the soul, like dew on the grass
What does it matter that I could not keep her
The night is fractured and she is not with me
That is all.

I wish you could have seen me that night, after I told you to not wait and you said you wouldn't. I wish you could have seen me all those nights I said goodbye to you.
The first time a cigarette parted my lips. The first time I was up all night crying. My first visit to the shrink. My first decline into cyclical breakdown.
Do you think this is easy?

Each time, they got back, it was more heated, more intense. There was a new depth in conversation, new tenacity of grasp.

He sits and writes her a hundred letters, but he doesn't dare send them because she was the one who walked away.
She sits and writes him a hundred letters, but she doesn't send them because that wasn't curing the problems he refused to deal with. Surely true unhappiness was better than doubtful joy.

Maybe we just tell ourselves these stories to compartmentalize losses and lies. The truth, plain and simple, is they don't send those letters is because with they will dart back to each other and the cycle of boom and bust will then begin. And each successive time, it is harder to say goodbye.

Fragments of my soul live in you. Fragments of your soul live in me. And each time we walk away, fragments of us just die.

I don't love her, that's certain, but perhaps I love her,
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long..

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Arcane clasps.

There are puddles of rain in my shoes.
I smile like my heart is aching.
If it's raining and cloudy in London, there's rain and cloud in my soul..

Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?

Adventures to random book stores.
You never did connect the dots so you never saw the monster I had become.
I think I love you.
I don't think, I think. I just do.
You sound just like me.

Possess me like a tune.
Pervade me like a musky scent.

There were songs in your soul from a past life. Songs I translated to remind you of someone else.
There's a mole on the lower right of his mouth which I must never know of.
There was a black and white girl with a huge smile on her face despite her sun burn. Little did she know. That's how stories start.
A little midnight oil, spring's first blossom, collection of water bottles with red caps. Later it's a cardboard box with a label on it.

Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?
Inside your restless soul, your heart is dying.

"I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams, I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door...
Hello.. is it me you're looking for?
I can see it in your eyes, I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted
And my arms are open wide
Because you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much
I love you.."

When insanity became inspiration
Never before had I looked better. And never before had I felt worse.
How was it?
It sucked so much that I locked myself in my room and screamed till I thought the world would shatter and then sat by the river and smoked because I missed you.
Every expression my face is capable of right now.. the infinite sense of your most intense vibrant presence

It doesn't matter where you go, as long as you come back.
Who is that guy who walks you back?
A lot of people walk me back, who are you talking about?
A lot is not one, and one is dangerous.

Your broken Urdu broke my heart.

No rhyme, no heartbreak, no reason.
High treason, the man was a vegetable till he became a fascist.
What ghosts must haunt him in his grave.
The traces of blood follow you home
Like the mascara tears from your getaway.

It's a fire, she crooned.
It's a fire, fire, and I'm burning.

"I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know..
Because I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely
Or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying I love you..."

Sometimes conversations come to me like grey strangers asking for directions, sometimes a part of a song. Sometimes on sheets of Egyptian cotton, ten little monkeys jumping on the bed..
You're the only friend I have. My night dawns with you and you know it.
I borrow words.
Say it to me, again and again and again.

Little one, little one, the sky is falling.

Do you know what missing you feels like?
It's the devastation of a moth as the candle it worshiped is snubbed out the moment it was about to give itself up.
Smoke whirls like a violin's tears, but no burn is visible.

Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?
I drift across the city in the rain till I find my way back home.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Another song for a broken heart.

By riversides we sat together, by benches with readers and lovers.
Sometimes you'd get up to paint on stray canvases.
My perfume on your sleeve.

"I want to put mehndi on my hands."
"I love mehndi. Put it on mine too."
"I went to this wedding and I almost touched the bride's hands to know what it's like."

You laughed.
"That's by far the most sophisticated puff I've ever seen. You take the sleaze out of smoking."
You never told me to stop, though you hated the way it tasted on my lips.

My ankles gave way as I tried to run on our track alone. I screamed at myself for even thinking of Twix when I had so easily let go of you.
On the edge of the bridge, I stood for an hour in the clawing rain, our rain.
"We don't say things most things because we don't want people to know we want to say them."
I wish you had said those things while there was still time.
"I think I should stop saying things which I don't want people to know but I want to say."
"Don't write to me in that tone. I can feel it."
"We know each other too well."
What undotted i's meant, why you would say Thank You with two capital letters, when there would be two fullstops after your name.
I can smell my city's soil in the rain tonight. Like a gladiator who is about to die does.
He looked at me with hollow eyes as I walked away.
I won't leave you, you promised.
I won't cut my hair, I promised.

The cruise we were meant to take when you'd come, the ship lay in distress. There would have been champagne and moonlight and the brush of your knee against mine.
Remember those acrylics I said I'd buy for you? The set of eighteen in the exquisite wooden box by Van Gogh's shadow, I had bought them already.

"You make people cry."
"I'd say I'm pretty good at it."
"I wrote a letter to you, sent it two weeks ago."
The only one who could make me cry for the right reasons.

I remember our last conversation.
"Your letter.. "
"I have no words tonight."
"I'm moving out in ten days."
"Where to?"
"I don't know."
"My phone will be permanently switched off."
You smoked with your eyes closed. There was a hurt in your words.
"I'm so, so sorry."
"Shhh... I love you."
I called out your name, for the very last time.
"I love you."
"Stay with me for a while."
"Tell me you won't wait, because then I'd know I have nothing to come back to."
"I won't."
And we sat in silence, till we turned to vapour and dust, till we disappeared.

I wish you had fought with me for me.

Remember those blood kisses from long, long ago? I don't know what they meant then, don't know what they mean now.
The hours changed quickly, and moods, and people. Remember how he asked, what made me weep with him.
Ze mujnoon yum te may junoon ye.
Je rubab yum, te mein shehbaz yea.
Ze naghma yum, te mein saaz yea.
Ze parwana yum te may parvaaz ye.

I was the one who walked away, after I made you promise you wouldn't.
A set of new paints lay with fruit peels in the garbage.
I'm not coming back, love. I'm waiting for you to come back.