He Wrote Poetry All Over My Skin

The Letter to Nobody

Dearest,

It is cold today. After a week-long heat wave, the bay area has cooled down. It even rained the other day - what a treat!

The rain has clarified the skies. I didn’t know the blue of the Californian skies could be any bluer. But they could. They have: And they remind me of home.

I am inundated with assignments. I read most of the afternoons. I don’t remember my eyelids being tired this way. This tiredness is new to me, as are the golden sycamore leaves, the souvenirs of autumn. My first fall in the US, tired from reading stories all day long.

Fall.

Such a terse, poetic name for a weather.

You were startled by my admiration when I first admitted it to you. I suspect it struck you as incorrect. In a way, you were right.

Why should the spring buds admire the fall? Why should they indulge in the promise of death, decay, falling?

Fall. 

It is relaxing just to even pronounce it out loud. My muscles groan. In the distant skies, the clouds have thinned out into round patches that look like doily. I smile. I always wanted to learn crocheting. I know I never will. But I will look at doilies and I will look at doily-looking clouds and tell myself I wanted to learn crocheting. Why do I do this? Who am I lying? And I am not even lying. I would like to learn crocheting but only if life was a little longer than it is. I shift my gaze back to my screen. Words. I love them. 

Rustle. Why do I have to be distracted like this?

A swarm of desiccated sycamore leaves. It is cute that they always travel in a band. My windowsill is their nestling place. The specters of autumn. 

Is this a goodbye? Are you here to say goodbye? 

I say goodbye out loud. The leaves receive my idiocy with solemn indifference. 

Indifference. You pretended but you couldn’t be half as indifferent as these leaves. 

I never understood why you, with all your appetite for the unknown, should be threatened by the admiration. But admiration is threatening. In old french, it means to regard the person in awe.

It is threatening to be regarded with awe. What if we couldn’t live up to it? What if our existence contaminates someone’s pool of awe? Will we be able to live with so much guilt?

I understand you better now. Now that you are gone.

You indeed disappointed me. You faltered when it mattered the most. You betrayed my trust more than once.

Strangely enough, life is setting up a reverse drama for me. I have a far younger boy approach me with the admiration I had for you. And I feel burdened. I try to tell him that this is stupid. And it is. I know it is, because I have been stupid. But he persists. He brings me tea and chocolates.

I am waiting to break his heart. But that is the only way forward. Doesn’t mean I didn’t care for him. I want him to fly higher.

You are dead. Every day, life teaches me how/why to forgive you. I forgive you. One carelessness a day. You were also petty. Just like me. None of us can rise higher than our fears. At least, not all at once.

I forgave you this today - your suspicion of me. 

- bhushita

i kept the lock lose,

just for his presence.

maybe he would come,

for that i cut the fence.

he came with matches,

and stones on his hand.

he burned everything,

just left me a bare land.

i loved him all my life,

but he shattered me so.

i kept him above all,

never wanted him to go.

i was living all alone,

he left me like a past.

i never fell in love,

he was my ever and last.

being a human is hard when you are surrounded with inhumanity.

i shall inhale poison rather than falling in love.

two bodies dying to be in love

together to stay that forever

it is difficult to confess

their eyes can't feel eachother

skin and souls fighting

one wants warmth of intimacy

and there is another

who is drowned in the sea

no one knows better than me

what it is to stay alive in someone

when you have no reason to live

a love will give you a reason to die

lover shall kill you from inside out

eventually they'll be

the person you can't live without

hope you'll not be that cruel for me

for the reason i gave you my heart

be kind to me and all

you have my most delicate part.

~august.

-August.

Bitter expectation

I kept my door open

Hoping you’ll come by

Hoping you’ll notice how my eyes rained

Hoping that you’ll ask what happened

Hoping you won’t buy my lie

I kept my door open

With a burning believe inside

That you’ll stop by my side

Thinking you’ll comfort me while I mewl.

I kept my door open

Trying to comprehend if I was right?

Lingering till midnight

Stacking up coldness from January wind

Deceiving myself that it'll be my last try

I kept my door open

Well-known that it’ll all become a waste

Knowing that I should leave the rest

I kept my door open even after knowing how bitter expectation taste.

maybe someday soon, we'll be there, together, forever.

Life moves in seasons; we bloom, we wilt, we blossom again. Go unafraid, go fearless, go graceful. Be. Nothing is final. I smile with more ease as I grow old, I love better, I am kinder. Also there is body ache at times, there are strange illnesses sprouting within, but there is grace settling in within me. I am so grateful.

Happy Friday the 13th

Riddle the Cat lookin sleepy and evil