I refused
To listen to friends and family
Who warned me what will come
I refused
To look at the signs and flags
That told me to go back
I refused
To make boundaries and lines
Out of self-respect
I refused
To stand tall and put my foot down
When I kept getting hurt
I refused
To give up what we have
Even though you were long gone
I refused
To allow myself to process
To let myself break down
I refused
Even though time has passed
And the pain settled in
I refused
Despite all the heartbreak and pain
To stop loving you

it's a collection of intrusive thoughts,
you've been taking care of it for so long,
developing an attachment to it,
putting other attachment issues on hold.

it's the most worthless precious thing you have,
the rest of them might not see it, but you do.
the rest of them overlook your worth, too,
so casual you're not even sure it's still there.

such a funny story until it's not,
an impossible theory no one can prove wrong,
it's a collection of intrusive thoughts
that you've been in possession of for so long.

(a poem for the women left holding the dustpan)

I remember when my children were small—
eager hands reaching for the broom,
begging to help.
They’d trail behind me,
half-heartedly sweeping,
missing corners,
scattering crumbs.

But they wanted to try.
So I let them.

I’d guide their tiny hands,
show them the rhythm,
and still end up doing it myself.
They’d get tired, bored—
drop the broom mid-sweep
and run off laughing
while I stayed behind
to clean it properly.

That’s what this felt like with you.

You insisted.
“I want this. I can do this.”
So I gave you the broom.
I showed you the way.
I slowed down, waited,
offered my heart like a home.

But the minute the work began,
the minute the dust stirred,
you handed it back—
too heavy, too much,
not fun anymore.

And like a child,
you disappeared into yourself,
while I stood there—
hands full of splinters,
heart full of ache,
sweeping up the pieces
of everything you couldn’t carry.

You wanted the broom.
Until you didn’t.

And now I’m here,
again—
cleaning the mess
you made of me.

बोलताना तुझ्याशी भान मी हरपलो,
तुला बघायला दररोज मी तरसलो.
भेटशील तू मला, ही आशा मनात होती,
पण भेटायला तुला योग्य संधी मिळत नव्हती.

मी मारलेल्या जोकवर तुझं खदखदून हसणं,
तू दिलेल्या सरप्राइजनं माझं आश्चर्यचकित होणं,
मी दुःखी असताना तुझे डोळे पाणावणं,
तू अडचणीत असताना माझं मदतीस सरसावणं.

आठवण येत होती मला कायम ह्या सगळ्याची,
पण तुझी सावलीदेखील माझ्या आसपास नसायची.
कायम मी जगायचो तुझ्या आठवणींमध्ये,
कायम मी बघत राहायचो तुझ्या फोटोकडे.

परत सोडून गेलीस तर जगणं अशक्य होईल मला,
माझ्या मनातली ही भावना मी कशी सांगू तुला?
कदाचित देवानेच आहे आपलं कनेक्शन जोडलेलं,
कारण नातं आहे आपलं शब्दांच्या पलीकडचं.

I don't know how to end a story, don't see when the plot has died
Especially when it's a good scene, and the mood is always just right
The sun is setting- there's lovers on the beach, the future stands before them with nothing out of reach
Maybe that's not in the cards they pulled, I should let the story line fade out, but that makes me physically ill,
"They belong together" I shout-
And I'll stall the scene with every breathe, hoping hope can out-write loves death

I don’t know why I’m writing this.
You won’t read it.
Maybe I just need to get it out before it eats me alive.

I can’t stop wanting you.
It’s pathetic, I know.
It’s been months.
Time stopped meaning anything when you left.

I still dream about you.
Sometimes I wake up and for a split second,
I forget that you’re gone.
I reach across the bed like an idiot,
and all I find is cold sheets and my own emptiness.

Why won’t you leave me?
Or maybe — why won’t you come back?
I don’t even know which one I want more anymore.

I replay everything.
Every message. Every glance. Every tiny moment.
Looking for the place where I could’ve made you stay.
But there’s nothing. Just the same ending, over and over.
You, gone. Me, still here.

I would ruin myself for you again.
I would break every promise I made to myself.
I would throw away every piece of healing just to feel you one more time.

God, I hate this.
I hate that I love you this much.
I hate that I need you like air I can’t breathe.

I don’t know how to stop.
I don’t even know if I want to.

If you came back tomorrow,
I would open the door.
No questions. No hesitation.
I’d let you in.
I’d let you wreck me all over again.

i've heard of leaving pieces of your soul
at places, with people, in memories and in hopes
and i think i did leave a quiet few of my own.
just a day ago, i left a few pieces of my soul
up there, when we began the trip—
went to a place that resembled a heavenly dip.

i wasn't alone, with two certain someones i'd grown
to like, in a while—
and no, let's just keep it romanticized.
we'd walked throughout the destination,
it wasn't our final,
and i'm sure they'd see through the above line
to find the name of the movie we'd watched together.

the walk, the talk, the silence, the show—
entirety of it, i just wondered one thing:
will i forget this,
or will it be engraved
by the time it's night and i move to a  new tomorrow?

the car rides,
to the movies,
the desi rickshaw and the tell-tale sign of a bonding—
i don't know if we're close enough.
surely they are—i admire them so.
didn't get it filmed for way too many reasons,
but i wish i'd done them both:
recorded the way they were,
just existing, unknown to the storm here within.

while one thought, the other said.
while one fumbled, the other bled—
out words and emotions,
way too direct
for someone like me,
who chokes on a mere breath.

if it were possible to engrave it to their souls,
tell them how till the end—
i only hoped.

we'd eaten,
and it didn’t feel the way it does with people
i'm new with.
i wonder if they felt it too.
it was more than just fun or something worth remembering.
so much more.

and that thunderstorm—
the way the dust carried through the winds,
and then i saw the sky burst
into a million little streams of light and of thunder.

the rain fell, and it lingered—
the feeling to cherish,
to live,
to breathe,
and to exist—
in that very moment.
to open my heart
and pour out all the blood it carried,
to open up and let the world consume—
as i lay down and relished
all that took place around me:
their voices,
their laughter,
the dreams i had
once i was in a disaster.

i've only wanted to perish away before,
to hide,
to be thrown in a current so deep,
i need not float anymore.

and yet, somehow i found
something akin to glitter
underneath my skin—
as we dashed through the wet steps of the temple,
barefoot,
each pair of eyes shadowing a glimmer.

and as i wished in front of all the lords,
"i do not know how to do this—
i haven’t trusted you enough in a while,
but i'll just ask,
like the greedy little thing i am—
keep the ones around me happy and safe,
and i shall accept you,
and want for you again."

and i had tears gathering in my eyes.
for a second, i thought i'd cry.
"please don't make me speak."
but they did.
and the tears got replaced by a smile.

i've smiled a lot,
in their company.
i don't know—
all the way back,
a smile that seemed to last.

and we settled outside the temple,
sitting,
breathing in—
i watched them.
watched the way their eyes swam,
watched the way the sky held
all those streaks resembling the roots of a tree.
and i realized,
my roots now went too deep—
and i couldn't move,
couldn't speak.
wanted to say so much,
but i held it all within me.

there was a lot that i felt in the moment.
as the wind grazed my skin,
felt its caress leave a warmth at my feet—
"oh, but i love you so."

too protected to be seen as vulnerable,
couldn't hold it as well as i usually handled—
it must have shown,
the silence that i got on.

we walked through a route,
a secret garden
resembling the world of nowhere—
and for the first time that night,
i didn’t want it to end.

we talked,
i heard mostly—
all i had to share was how disintegrated i was.
(please hold me.)
didn't say a word along those lines.
the newly found hope had me positive,
and i let it cover me whole.

forgot to test out the theory
of whether "do shadows turn darker when they overlap?"
a line from a favourite movie.
oh, it was a perfect day.
how i wish i had more of that.

sitting, breathing in the moment,
walking beside,
behind,
in between—
i loved all that.

i don't think i'll persist in their memory
(lord, i wish i do).
for they're stuck in mine,
and i can't seem to move on.

and yeah, this is kind of a confession,
but no, it isn't that of love.
i barely know what love is,
but i want to,
just because.

heard this man say,
"you live only for four days—"
the fifth, he asked from beside.
i looked at him,
and then at the one who was in front of me.
didn’t see his expression,
but i know he'd gotten hit too.

"the fifth is for the lord.
the world loves you,
and there's nothing that you can grip onto."

but how do i accept it,
when it's all i've been searching?
in the middle of an ocean,
i didn’t even realize i was floating.

the chains seemed heavy,
pulling down in that second—
yet i didn't let go of that invisible string.
let the man say,
"there's nothing from people.
you come, and you leave.
if you've got money,
they talk and they preach."

what of hope?
and what if trusting you is my choice—
keeping it is yours?
what of love,
and what of bonds?
i’ll take those to my grave.

please keep away the suffering of the world,
and i'll rest indefinitely,
despite what's at stake.

the car ride back was enlightening—
it was so dark,
the air conditioning turned off.
i sat in the front,
listening to music they played from the back.
heard them laugh,
smiled to myself.

looked out the window
and hoped perhaps the wind would carry me now.
i felt so light,
so heavy at the same time—
the irony,
the metaphor i can't admit.
i like being tangled in words.

second time,
i didn’t want it to end.
and he said so,
and i know the thought so.

from listening to music that spoke
more than the tunes did,
i looked all around,
taking the beauty of destruction after the storm—
and hoping perhaps that they will too.

could we enter a time loop
and have the day play out on repeat
for the rest of my life
and forever, if more?

near to my place, i got out.
missed out their words yet again.
wanted to say,
"love you, take care—see you both—let's do this again."
said,
"enjoy, don't die, good night and sweet dreams" yet again.

and i walked the length back to my apartment.
saw the dark—
it felt like comfort,
reminding me this was my place
in the world.

it's my pov,
the third person in the room
floating somewhere,
watching it all take place in a loop.

i didn't want the night to end.
but it did.

and so here i am,
sitting the next day with tears in my eyes,
holding this newly found attachment
to life and a certain few—
about whom i ain't so certain
whether they'll hold in the long run.

but here i am once again,
hoping there'd be a repeat.

because i did comment to his,
"what if this is the last time like this?"
and i said,
"the next one will be better then."
can’t say i believed in it much myself,
but i'll keep hoping—

because hope and love can't be killed.
love comes easier than hate.
the former, we're born with;
the second is fed.

hope comes from love,
and i just love to hope
and hope to love.
so i hope you do too—

something better,
something in the future,
something—
even just once more.

maybe it'll be a repeat of the day yesterday,
or even a better one
to remember the day after.


i couldn't bleed out to death
to prove the amount of laughter
i've carried etched in my skin.
i've got it crawling up my shins,
couldn't admit till the very end—
i left a piece of my soul,
perhaps a few more.
up there, everywhere,
all all the places i'd gone to.
but especially,
the highlights of it all—
with them,
both.

i didn't really want the night to end,
at least, it seems so after all.