The Wishing Well

what if i don’t get my fairytale?

I imagined my love to be Cinderella’s wishing well
Charming structure, intricate carvings on the soft, delicate marble.
I’d imagine wishing upon it every moment for the existence of a love that would lean with me over the well top and fish out all the change in it,
Telling me how he’d use it to lay the foundation of our first house,
For our wedding champagne,
For our kid’s first toy.

He’ll use my wishes to grant me those I never thought I deserved.

But my well has no intricate carvings,
And I am no Cinderella.
There lay no marble anywhere near,
It stands high with these soft red bricks,
Every inch of it screams ‘austere’.

But that’s not the worst part.

It has this force it attracts me with when a dweller takes a second glance at me.
The chipped bricks prick my finger as I return a smile of warmth.
As the dweller inches closer, the force from the well grows stronger till it all goes black and I open my eyes to find myself gasping for air.

As I drown in the dark liquid of the well,
My limbs slowly become tired and my throat fills with water every time I yell the dweller’s name.
As my chest starts to hurt, I catch a glimpse of his blank stare as he mouths ‘i’m sorry’ and leaves.

I hear the footsteps fading as I feel the warmth of my tears contrasting the cold water of the well.

So I add these weights to my boots,
As for the next time, I shall not go through this again.
But the next dweller comes in with this gush of wind and sweeps me off my feet.
But instead of him opening up his arms to take me in,
He lets me drown and as I feel the splash of the cold on the back of my head,
I question,

“How the hell did you end up here?”
“Weren’t you careful?”
“Wiser?”
“Tougher?”
“Weighted?”

I blame myself as I catch a glimpse of his blank gaze
Right before I hear his fainting footsteps.
I grasp the dents of the chipped bricks inside the well.
The indentations help me grip, just like they did before and I pull myself out.

Drenched.

Drenched in his memory.

Drenched…
in his indifference.

Dear Stranger

I’m glad you don’t know this blog exists.

Dear stranger,

I’m guilty.
I’m guilty of my not-so-subtle side glances.
I’m guilty of roaming the hallways twice and expecting unachievable romances.
I’m guilty that you crossed my mind once and never left.
I’m guilty that I fear losing you, someone I never had, and being bereft.
I’m guilty of the film of scenarios I play on the projector of my eyes during the daybreak & the dullest of nights.
I’m guilty that my only reaction to seeing you is a sigh while every part of me that wants to grab you, fights.

So I desperately need you to know how obsessed I am with you,
How seeing you is the only thing I look forward to.
How I practice eyeing you discreetly when I’m all alone,
How I wish with everything in my power that feelings for me in your mind have also possibly grown.

No. No. No!
I berate my mind.
It’s unrealistic.
It is not worth it.
Ugh. Why did I have to be a hopeless romantic?

The society tells me to follow the “right way”,
Pop culture tells me to “cease the day”.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that
The probabilities of “us” is minimal
Yet I can’t seem to let go of you.
I guess you’ll reside as a hostage for a while in my mind,
Till I finally find the courage to heavily sigh and move on just like I always do.

Extinguished

…or at least to the person I thought you were”

(Part 2)

I’m patient.
Oh, I completely understand.
I’m at your convenience. You need a helping hand?
You’re busy? That’s fine, what I wanted to say isn’t that dire.

But I do have a confession.
I’m also a liar.

My tapping foot was anxious when you didn’t text back or never called,
Does that define my patience? No? Huh, then I guess I’m at fault.

No I wasn’t fine when you cancelled the dinner plans or when you were too busy to say hi,
But if I would’ve opened up to you would you have understood or simply asked why I lie?

Would you’ve thought of me as desperate when I’d say I wish to be close to you?
Or would you’ve pulled me close just like I’d want you to.

I wanted to be the reason for your absent minded smiles,
I wanted to be the foundation to lay your love’s tiles.

I wanted you to miss me when I turned around,
When I was with you, I wanted you to be my safe and sound.

But it’s been months since our forest set on fire,
Even it’s ashes are dried now, then tell me why these feelings I still desire?

I guess our lost love turned into my poetic art,
But will it make the world more vulnerable to my still aching heart?

Do you know sometimes I replay the moment in my head of our fights?
I wonder what you would’ve felt if you could’ve see me cry throughout the nights.

Can I forgive you? Will I forget you?
Now I’m numb when I recall you saying ‘I love you too’.

I guess that’s all in the past now. Shhhh it’s okay,
But just for a few minutes, on this ashen bed of what we were…I’ll lay.


This is the second part to my previous post Spark at Eve.

Also this is my first attempt at Slam Poetry (or something kinda like it). Do let me know if you think it’s good !


Spark at Eve

“I held on to you so tight…

(Part 1)

I gaze sideways at the curtain because there’s just too much to say,
I anchor my words, my thoughts…as I wait for something you to convey.

There is an urgency in this comfort, something my tapping foot awaits,
Yet, that time, the shadows of hope seemed to fade out the gate.

My graphite scribbled intents are erased by your goodbye,
I put a smile on, say the same and nod my head with a sigh.

The 2:00 am disconnects are brutal yet so is when you say “good night”,
Things frustrate me, they confuse me
But god ! Talking to feels just so right.

In many ways than one, you evoked feelings I never thought I deserved,
Believe me when I say laughs along with tears were served.

Yet here I am, staring into your hazel eyes thinking if I can ever escape,
My soul feels unencumbered. I’m lost…in your surreal gape.

Then comes those times when my tresses crave your stroke,
While the hopes of that are futile and that of I’m aware,
Just…sorry I am for those sleepless nights when all I wished was for you to be there.

Then came that lingering moment when the freeze cloaked my clock,
That night, those words slipped out as my heart lost the key to its lock.

I’m smirking as I write these words, rolling my eyes cause these circumstances I don’t believe!
I guess all I’m trying to say is ‘I love you’ and baby…that wraps my New Year’s Eve.


I had earlier posted this as a submission for a poetry contest but as I am posting it’s second part Extinguished so just thought of adding this here too.


Falling


Sudden Scribbles #5


“They call it ‘falling in love’ because whenever you fall you are bound to get hurt”

5 Years Later


Sudden Scribbles #4


I pulled out a book from the library shelf and saw you on the other side,
You smiled at me and here I am, 5 years later, standing as your brid
e”

The Coffee Cup

I wake up at 2 am only to the smell of coffee reminding me of you

Standing in the coffee shop queue every morning,
I gaze at you with a smirk on face and my heart yearning.

I bite my lip and stare at my shoes as I see you smile,
Then I hear the ding of the shop’s door and leave my fantasy world for a while.

The morning of my birthday gifted me with butterflies as I expectantly came,
You weren’t there and the pit in stomach formed a maim.

I left the store at the verge of tears as I bumped into you running outside,
You spilled coffee on my birthday suit yet I stood their with a smile too wide.

You apologised too much and I forgave too quick,
Is it controversial that this birthday is my favourite pick ?

I left for my home town for a few days but the coffee there didn’t taste as good,
I’d rather spend these cold mornings there if I could.

I returned soon only to see your yearning eyes,
I asked for my coffee and forced my grin to disguise.

I left with the ringing of the coffee shop door as I came across a writing on my cup,
“Is 8 ok for me to pick you up?”

Love Languages


Sudden Scribbles #3


Her love language:
Strumming her guitar at midnight while staring into his eyes

His love language:
Kissing all her guitar string bruises till sunrise

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