if your heart does not call

my name like it is

a song, a chant, a mantra,

then i ask that you do not take

another step closer to me.

if your eyes do not dwell

on these dark orbs of mine

or the midnight-black hair that falls down my face

then i ask that you kindly

turn around and journey to another land.

if your mind does not flood

the world around you with

images, thoughts, or memories of me

then i earnestly plead

that you no longer try to tread the maze that is my heart.

for i am not a being

that is willing to go down on my knees

and implore that you lay down your heart next to mine

nor am i a soul

that will desperately beg for your company.

but if, just if

your heart sincerely screams for me

like every second is a waste of time

if your eyes cannot forget

the moments when it had stared into mine,

and if your mind cannot sleep

with the memory of me in the darkness of night,

then i wish to tell you that

not one ounce of your love is unreciprocated,

that i have fallen deeper than the world will ever know,

that my heart is full of love and is endlessly aglow,

and i promise you, my dear, never will i let go.

a poem for you (you know who you are):

when i dream, i think of you –

your fingers clicking on the keyboard, lines and lines of code plastered

on the screen of your computer

glinting sharpness, remnants

of whatever happened behind

i dream of your smile

a frown, sometimes, eyes distressed

tiny sparks, like candles in an empty sea and –

i keep this hope in my pockets, memories in old receipts

you are that train of thought, cutting too shortly

and yet,

i cant seem to forget

i hear you the most – in quiet nights

like silver burning closed windows

you sound like love

waves tearing rocks apart

as though they were my heart

and you were the sea

i see you again

in numbers and lines and see outs and see ins

numbers and practicality

and maybe that's what all i am

to you,

is it love?

your clothes smell like home

arms, sunshine that warms every golden smile.

yes, this is how she loves you

she loves you like the warmth you seek to find

loves you as passionate as the blue star

you see every night

burning the heart, leaving ashes that tingle like satisfaction

yes, that is how she loves you

but i love you

in rainy nights

torrents that scream what i want you to hear

droplets that shatter silence

a part of my heart

in every bead that sits on your windowsill

sometimes its her (mostly her)

but that's fine

because i can wait for those days

when its me (again)

maybe we're in wonderland – where clocks dont tick and seconds fade away

did the queen of hearts take your heart as well?

Oh, the cat! mad hatter,

teach me how to smile

even when they're together

let's rewind

some days its her, some days its me

and that's fine, really

it's an endless loop, you see

(a non terminating one, is that how you speak?)

of lines and lines and lines of the same thing

three words that sound too closely a lie

its an endless loop of sadness

and smiles with you

and for everything in the world

i wouldn't trade

a moment with you

Murphy never understood the law that bears his name. If he had no-one would have laughed. 

The ‘hamartia’ - the ‘sin’. Unavoidable failure in the face of good intentions.

Should I have taken the money? The box promised more…

And then swallowed me whole into an empty abyss.

I see a law. I see a curse.

That every deed, no matter its temporary brightness ends in darkness.

What if I found another law. 

Take all creation and invert it. So everything falls upwards. 

And mistakes spawn triumphs that redeem their clumsy origins. Inexorable freedom.

What would Murphy call that law?

There are stanzas of words meant for you but still aren't said for the sake of feelings...

the whole idea of this is art

for art is the abstract reasoning of things..

art is the attraction ridiculed by time,

art is me...

for I am afraid of revealing the truth.

It is the color in her eyes. It is the color of the sea.

It's no coincidence that you can drown in both.

It is the winter's chill. It is the color of her bedsheets.

It is the cool breeze on your face. The breath you exhale after you kiss her.

It is the crunch of ice and the hush of snow. It is the sound of words whispered privately.

It is the peace and contentment you feel as you hold her in your arms.

It is the loneliness I feel and the tears I cry for you as you love somebody else.

But most importantly, it will always be the color of her eyes, the same color as the sea.

The sea in which I lost you.