(un)finished business

By Vincent van Gogh - Starry Night Over the Rhone

You were a ship passing by my ship during a sunset.

Ours was a chance encounter,

so it was never about staying close forever

Nor was it about helping each other traverse the tides together.

We had both set sail to reach far away lands from different ends of the earth

With our journeys laid out in front of us.

But when we met amidst the vastness of the sea

It was difficult not to believe that something about our closeness made sense.

There was comfort and ease in existing together,

A never before felt sense of synchronicity,

That all was unfolding as it should.

I was the first to say goodbye though,

Not because I didn't want you,

But because I wanted you too much and I knew we weren't on the same page.

But why is it that even if I was the reason we sail separately today,

I find myself thinking about you more frequently than I care to admit.

Sometimes, memories of you feel like a fervent fever dream,

Because I can't dispel the thought that I made all of you up in my head.

But even then, I sleep with the radio close to my heart

In hopes that when you reach out, I'll answer you on the first ring.

It's devious and twisted but I can't pretend anymore

I still dream about your ship passing by my ship every night.

Comments

about love

When I was 10, love was Familiarity. Love was big eyes and sweet smile, coming over to give me his share of chocolates that he got for someone's birthday. Love was getting picked to play with him first. Love was random calls to my house that my mom picked up. Love was waiting for his silly emails over long summer breaks. Love was knowing I was his best friend. When I was 14, love was a Secret. Love was staring at his pretty eyes from far away. Love was the music in my ears whenever I heard him call my name. However, love was also sly. Love was accidentally brushing against his skin while walking beside him. Love was catching him looking at me and at once looking away. Love was the crescendo of heartbeats that came after. Love was... finding out it was love. When I was 17, love was All-knowing. Love was thinking pretty eyes wasn't love at all. Love was realizing I hadn't met love yet but knowing exactly what he looked like. Love will.... definitely be taller than me....

Purple.

it all began one august day as the sky bled into hues of purple, a coy smile from me, some words spoken in the dark from you and with the silent heat of our barely there touches, the yearning turned to longing. and come september, the longing will turn to love. and all it will take is an epiphany, an unintelligible distant symphony, a moment of chance miracle and you will know, that answers were never outside but within. you’d expect it to be earth shattering but it is a mere revelation it’s a switch you flick in your own mind that surrenders your soul. no matter what other say, it was a choice then and it will continue to remain so.

On moving 6629km alone away from home

It was a fresh start, one that I needed desperately. Applications and documentation had taken so much of my time and sucked so much of my energy, I don't think I quite comprehended what the move was going to entail. While I was open to changes, I don't think I was aware of how much transformation across all aspects of life it would take to acclimatise myself to my new reality. I was just happy for a fresh start. Nothing else mattered. But turns out, getting on the plane is the easiest step in all of this. The amount of transformation I've gone through and learning I've done in the past couple months is truly insane, to say the least. Recently, a friend back home asked me how I was doing living alone and I thought about it. Honestly, it hasn't been all good or all bad, but the important thing has been rooting and balancing myself despite it all. Not sure if anything I've written will be groundbreaking or something that hasn't been already said 7 million time...

Rust & stardust

There's not much to say about love beyond what has already been said But in the past, every time we fell apart I always used to find new ways To bleed on paper about you. Yet, this time has been different Because the words I spit out about you now don't make any sense Just like how we fell apart doesn't make any sense. Every time I sat down to write this, My thoughts always went back to that one time When you said I'd never be able to write anything without you in it, ever again. I laughed and rolled my eyes at you then But I knew you were right Even during the long stretches of radio silence between us, my words always seemed to find their way back to you. You were sometimes the hero in my stories Sometimes the villain And yet, you were there Car...

How it all started :)

As I start my very own blog from today.... I'd want to commence by stating how I started writing stuff ...have fun reading, even though, it's my very first piece of write-up here...And I'd love it if you comment on how it went. Thank you :) Writing is not something that I started doing from a very young age and yet I just love how it makes me feel every time I do it. As of now, It has spread inside of me as a poison because even if I try to fall out of this habit now, I just simply can't! It all started out some 5 years ago when my very first piece of writing was published in 'The Himalayan Times', in the 'Schoolpost' section, for the very first time. The encouragement and appreciation I got at that moment made me want to try my hand at this....and now I am what I am today all because of the feeling of being appreciated It was not that I started to write out-of-the-blue. Since a very young age, my father used to take me out to...

...I speak my mind =)