They come out of hiding,
appear to be abiding,
searching not, but begging for place,
place not in house, but in heart,
they are into impostering like an art,
you avoid them at start,
but end up dealing,
you look for their wounds,
wounds they have decorated,
to catch your attention,
without even a fleeting mention,
in the conversations
which involve your silences
and their stories,
your copy-paste OKs and their overdose of sorries,
you give them place,
a place in your heart,
still confused
whether as a gift of love or a loan of sympathy,
and the problem starts the moment they take it,
they try to make it something of their own,
making you forget the heartbeats you own,
they start coaxing you for more space,
you give them an inch more,
they bargain for square feets,
they nail you on your weak nerves,
even blackmail if it serves.
Baahar Nikal
baahar nikal..
darr se,
maayus manzar se,
zehen mein khayalon ke safar se,
baahar nikal…
wahi se jaha tu gira nahi,
par phir bhi khadde ko khaayi samajh baitha hai,
wahi se jahan tu maraa nahi ,
par chal rahi duniya ki raftaar se darkar laash ki tarah leta hai
baahar nikal…..
patthar sa kab tak tootega,
kankar se jwalamukhi nahi phootega,
barf ki tarah soch …bas pighal…
baahar nikal
ab baahar nikal
Painless pain
Cigarettes
Hope
उम्मीद को जरा सी हवा दो,
पतझड़ भी थोड़ा खुशनुमा हो….
Thought
Friends
Make love..
Two coffees
By mistake he ordered two coffees.
Sipped one while watching the other get cold.
A realisation was brewing in mind.
Each sip felt like tears flowing through throat.
On finishing the coffee he realised order wasn’t wrong but decision was.
Random poetries
A poetry is resting on your curves,
with its lines measuring your plateaus and creeks.
A haiku is finding solace in your navel,
with a middle word of second line hanging out like piercing.
Just want to ask,
if you still offer your skin as canvas,
for my lips aren’t finding space to write a prose
