Airtravel Allowance

Airtravel Allowance

30 k.g(s) only.

Screamed my ticket boldly.

 

Again, the attendant pointed at it,

their 30kg metric. Sigh.

I removed my Pokémon packet.

 

Thankfully,

weighing hearts wasn’t on their list.

 

High drift; through the mist;

with my city,

I had my last tryst.

 

 

 

 

 

Mere Faces

Mere Faces

I lay beside a frail old man. To me he is my father, to him I am a stranger. His illness has gulped his only treasure – his memories. He struggles with the past but everyday he cups my hands between his and he feels his blood inside of me. He lets me tend to him and I tell him the best part of his life. I tell him about Mom.

For years they were apart, living on different continents, across the seas, saving for a little home and writing to each other back ‘n forth. I’ve their letters, the epitome of their love.

It hurts to see him like this now, not able to remember her, finding it hard to believe that she would be with him, marry him and love him. Her letters makes him glow, like a child reading a fairy tale.

He sees the pain in my eyes and he holds my hand, letting the warmth from his body flow to mine and he says, “I do not remember your mother but it does not hurt me now because I am glad that she loved me. These memories of her I will not remember tomorrow but I still remember her voice. Her singing to me, the sound of her remains with me and soothes me ever since.”

He hums the song to me, my mother’s song. I hug him tightly, the disease has triumphed over his body but his love is still his.

Devil May Rejoice

Devil May Rejoice

I looked in her eyes;

the devil winked at me,

with greed, lust, lies and

all his evil deeds.

 

She’s a monster.

I rejoiced.

Just as fucked up

as me.

 

 

Two Souls

Two Souls

So close, so far

two little beautiful hearts;

holding hands beneath the stars

every step, drifting apart.

 

Stormy eyes, blazing desires

yearning more, soaring higher.

Two souls, go different ways,

with memories, it was okay.

Qualm

Qualm

I am standing in his gallery, admiring his art, dazzled by his passion for it.

I see him approaching me, “Heyaa, come with me I wanna show you something”, he says, pulling me gently to an empty corner. He removes a drape off a painting on the wall, revealing it to me.

I will not be his only audience. I might not even be the first one to see this painting (I hope, I am the first).

There are others at his gallery, wondering at his work. But here he is, standing beside me, his eyes gleaming at me. I feel like my opinion matters to him. I matter to him.

I stare at the painting, spellbound. My heart loves the painting, my brain loves it too, everything of mine loves everything about it. “I love it”, I want to say but I hesitate. There is a fear inside me. I am afraid that this time it won’t be the same to him like the last million times I’ve said it. I’ve always meant it, just as much as I mean it now. I like his paintings, selflessly.

I’ve battled my fear for long, sometimes I’ve used different words,  Amazing, Beautiful, Incredible, sometimes I’ve used every word. My vocabulary feels exhausted now.

“Do you like it? What do you think?”, he asks, his radiating eyes pierce through me and soothes me. I smile. “This one makes me so happy”, I say.

He smiles.