silk, velvet bobs

needle-shaped fingers

sugary smiles, sweet enough to be put in a box

and wrapped in lacy ribbon

crinkling eyes, captivating enough to hold me in place

when they are looking at you

shining golden heart, genuine enough to give light

to all the parts of me 

that crack beneath the surface.

crevices and holes and hidden veins where

dark, cold blood flows

fear, misery flows

all my insecurity goes

cobweb bones and caves of flesh

where you can see my pain, raw, fresh

red, blue, green?

twisting, choking, i mean

your fingertips dancing along unknown nerve endings, i mean

soft melodies somehow intertwining with your heartstrings, i mean

unfamiliar memories, unfamiliar to me

to me,

to me, the idiot waiting in your backseat,

the backseat of your heart, or maybe the backseat of nothing

the backseat of nothing, and everything in between

to me, the poor lovesick soul

who's hanging onto every word you pour

i keep them like a secret,

i keep them like a poem,

i keep them because they sound just like home.

and so my mind's gears turn at night

in the morning, they still do

in the afternoons, nothing's changed,

and i'm still thinking about you.

it's pathetic.

it's ridiculous!

it's crazy, it's stupid, it's tiring,

makes me the opposite of frivolous.

i

am exhausted.

my eyes

are red

from all the internal wars with myself

as i venture into alternate dimensions

and see your hand in someone else's

from each life to the next.

my head

is heavy

from the never-ending what ifs

and struggles between a pumping organ down in the middle

and a mass of tissue up north.

my chest

is hollow

from swelling up with profuse amounts of emotion

and from suppressing itself into a tiny little box when all the emotions

are too embarrassing, too shameful

from making space for something that is never going to come.

it is truly a talent for an artist

to make something so accurate,

one can't distinguish it from reality.

i must be quite good at this,

because no one seems to notice

that my smile

is painted.

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.

heavy-lidded

small exhales through her lips

her knees are shaking

her soles are aching

bending, breaking

until

she is no longer "immune"

a light touch to her collarbone might make her evaporate

but she's fine

she's fine

(or so she says)

she's fine

she's fine

she doesn't need rest

a day wasted will only add to her pain

(if she even admits she's in pain)

she can't afford to pause for a moment and look within herself

she can't close her eyes

that'd be time thrown away

her fumbling feet carry her shivering shoulders

her shivering shoulders carry her heavy head

her heavy head carries her thundering thoughts

her thundering thoughts carry nothing

but the ominous fear of disappointment hanging over her tired body

her chest is hollow

there is nothing filling her up except numbers and dates

she knows about nutrition

she knows about metabolism

but she acts like looking at word documents will nourish her

can she extract water from these sheets of paper

to parch her exhausted mind?

can she swallow all these pen caps like they're pills

and somehow feel like she can last another day?

she's trying to pull stars out of her bloodstream

for her to hang on her walls

she's seeking warmth

she's looking for comfort

she's only human

she clutches the fleece

and closes her heavy-lidded eyes

her throat is closing up,

overwhelmed with suppressed pleas

she can barely breathe

small exhales through her lips

her knees are shaking

her soles are aching

bending, breaking

she's not immune.

I know in my heart that I should be exuberant,

Your first step, your first milestone,

I shouldn't have to endure it.

My mind says that you are my beloved,

Your smile, your laughter,

Should be that which I covet.

My child, my blood,

You are my son,

You're my whole life, my whole world,

Yet I'm plagued by a desire to run.

For years I felt nothing but despair,

I didn't live, I didn't smile,

I really didn't care.

Then you came along to brighten my life,

My baby, my sphere,

Despite this there was strife.

The pain went away to be replaced by fury,

I was angry, I was mad,

The apoplectic rage was enduring.

The fury gave way to apathy,

The medicine, the fog,

It may have fixed but it didn't cure it.

Now I live a life of unbearable detachment,

No pain, no rage, not even amaze,

My greatest wish in this life is to be enraptured.

Halfway through your day and sometime in my night, we picked up a fight. 

But before you close your eyes, you do apologise and promise me to come in my dreams. 

For months we have borne the pain of being apart till this day,

But it is re-assuring to know Love is just a phone call away!

© CopyRight Vibha Lohani 2016