butwhat?

i didnt let you be the tethered memory as
i would have liked, you only within
the circumference of a thousand nautical miles
around the forbidden island that was love
or something like the insides of an alcoholic;
one can never tell if it exists.

remember the lines i had
borrowed from the hindi teacher, stretched them till they
were your essence
soaked in melancholy and made heavy?
they might haunt me tommorow
as i write an exam, i dont think i can
come up with a quirky essay then.

what are you now? strewn around pages
among strips of teen angst, bitter pills
and attempts
at feigning a laugh?
shown around to all who would care to read
a silly gypsy's heartlines..
maybe wine and laughter
of a lost muse
or just unattempted, anomalous poetry.


i didnt let you be a comicstrip
on my scrapbook a redheartshapedblot on
my journal an old forgotten photograph
stowed away in the last drawer of my
lungs nothing i could deny the existence of.
all i did was
predicting rightly all the wrongs
that could cause the silence,
fools do this always and become
cardiologists.
if i could have a candle (mother
hides them away she says im
too clumsy for fire), i would burn
burn all the logical music
till they learn to shut up and smile.
they only speak of crashes, of
the fall the loss the end like i do,
keeping me on the right track when i need
to run amok.
if there ever was a fire that could,
i would burn them in you..
(but perhaps she was right
i was too clumsy for flame when
it came along)

what would you be a decade hence?
not rain nor the flowers you
once made me, they arnt charming to look
at anymore- they speak of couldhavebeens
that make my head reel under
the volume of their virtual spark.
what, then?
maybe the midnight sighs in
my sleep, softer than
the breeze that touches my lips and dies
sighs like secrets only the night can keep,
mysteries only i find enticing.
or you could be a schizophrenic's
favourite source of daylight,
and if im not the victim, i'd be
the shrink and steal you away;
place you carefully inbetween my palms,
retire from this heathen shell
and chant you until
you are my freedom.