Skip to main content

Just Words

By


I am just words.

The ones that used to drift in
through the windows of
your dreams
on starless nights.

The ones you once
danced with in the
mango-stained monsoons.

The ones in which you
first saw my face.
Destined to be loved. And hated.

I am the same words.

The music for which
is lost in a maze that's lost
in memories of pain.

The taste for which
you lost because they
wanted to fill your hours forever.

The ink for which
you spilt because the colour
never changed.

I am still just words.

Replaceable, and replaced
by the dictionaries
whose covers promised more.

Beaten and battered
by the pens and matches
you used to erase me.

Hollow and unfeeling.
Ever yours. Never yours.
Yet feeling hollow and unfeeling.

I am the words you erased
Before you read me.

Comments

Adrian Neibauer said…
So many good lines here:

"mango-stained monsoons"

"Beaten and battered
by pens and matches
you used to erase me"

Maybe being words aren't such a bad thing after all!
7:44 AM
Shubhodeep said…
Adrian,

So happy to see you here again. It's been ages. How have you been?

Thank you for your kind comments.
2:13 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Final Tide

By
Years later, when these tears have dried with the mist will you even recognise the pain that's floated down the years? Years later, when we walk beneath teary-eyed skies, will you spare a moment and laugh at how dry my eyes look? Years later, when all my love has turned to loss Will you turn to me and whisper that all that anger was love? Follow @diaporesis
5 comments
Read more

A New Beginning

By
Well, it's the season of sequels, so I offer here my very own 'desi' sequel. This story is a sequel to Delirium : hope you enjoy it!!! And, pardon the length!!! Murky sun-rays sink into the evening dust. The dust fuses with the bars of my window. I sit and stare into bleak oblivion. Disjointed thoughts overwhelm reason. The world appears a hateful blur. Slowly, the sky turns from indigo to violet to a stellar black. I keep sitting—unflinching, unblinking, unmoving. I gaze at the unrained, undusted sky. Consoling hope seems to rain from it. I am lost in my thoughts, not hers. I try to come ashore… ~ Three months have passed since she left. Hesitatingly, I have tried to fill up the immense void of her charmed non-presence. She had called up once after she left. That’s the last time I heard Tanya’s voice. That’s probably the last time I’ll ever hear it again! But what do I do with the memories of that voice? Still so clear, still so true: ‘Hi, it’s Tanya,’ the v
13 comments
Read more