Libre

d

I drank a glass full of light
It was cold, bitter even
There was something in it
So unforgiving
A lingering aftertaste
Of truth, I suppose
Harsh
Seared my throat
as I swallowed
It burned
But the enlightenment left me awake
And weak
Limbs trembling in realisation
Sudden and bleak,
That I’d been altered permanently
And eventually, I’ll be alright
But I’ll never be able to go back
To drinking sweet lies

Libre

©CM
02.12.2016

To A Kind Man

 

A man walks past a child, and
Smiles down at it
That is softness
Another stops his day to console a friend
That is benevolence
But there is a man, who sit miles away
From the object of his attention
And ceaselessly radiates hope
Warmth
He gives freely his affection
And words falter when faced with
Such kindnesses
To him who spends so lavishly his love
In such excesses
I don’t know what to say
I cannot thank him enough in any way
Because I am that corner
Where the sun doesn’t reach
But love does, and I receive
It in such intensity
That eclipses are dwarfed
By the immensity
Of that kindness
And I turn to that radiance
When mountains loom, when
the monsters of the mind hold sway

And I will confess
I aspire to be you, to
Someone who needs to borrow light
Some day

 

 

To A Kind Man

 

©CM
02.12.2016

 

 

Kind men. The world doesn’t have enough of them. Blessedly, I do. People who stop by with love, with comfort, who have no self serving reason to do what they do, but they do it anyway. Ashish, Don, Hershel, Furqan, Samee, Sharath– Thank you for helping me, and thank you for supporting me. I am grateful to you and for you.

Haze

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He had that odd sort of melancholy
That stilled everything around him, gently
rippling, like a shimmer, like
the ground does, on a searing hot day
when the sun bears down with all its intensity
He had that.
Dry, parched- but not barren
Simply lying in wait
He had that
He had his aura and his atmosphere
He carried his own gravity

How could I stay away?
How could I not be drawn in?
This man walked beside me
With worlds within him

Haze
(c)CM
01.12.2016

 

 

I want to stop believing, sometimes, I do

But I take one look at you, and I hope anew.

Between all the constant upheavals and interruptions in my life, you are the one constant.

I wish you would read, I wish you would know.

Know and appreciate how precious everything I give you is.

But there are some mountains even hope can’t climb.

And that’s just how it is.

 

 

Pathological Hope

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I suffer
From pathological Hope
Disappointments are bad enough, but
What makes them even tougher to cope
With, is
This nagging uncertainty
Wishful thinking, or just stupidity
That there might, there might just be
Something better for me

I suffer
Because I can’t stop believing
And I may be stubborn, but
Life, is unrelenting
I try not to, but
I keep bending
People crush me, and walk away
And I raise my head yet again
Too hopeful to accept that
There are no fucking happy endings.

(c)CM
26.11.2016

Greenstick Fractures

Greenstick Fractures

Days after the apology
Mornings of the aftermath
The sky isn’t really blue yet
The pillows still suffer my wrath,
No, I’m not yet okay
And I don’t know why it’s so
Difficult to wash with a thousand ‘sorry’s
The blood off a bruised ego
Bared in the light of day
My vision blurs, at the oddest times
The world is gray, semi permanently
You riddled holes through which colors leached away
Even your smile doesn’t stand out to me

I don’t know, maybe I can’t see
Maybe I don’t want to see

Let’s count this one as a lesson learnt
Even love needs some time to fill fury’s cracks
Pride does not suffer greenstick fractures
Spines can bend till they break, and not always
Grow back
No amount of alcohol can atone for
A drunken night’s sins
Even angry words are more potent when laced
With whiskey
You’re hung over, and I’m struggling to re paint my sunrises
Rather ineffectively
And I can’t
-you need to hold the brush
Because these are colors
You have to give back to me

©CM
13.11.2016

Coma

girl_in_the_wind_by_mcpite-d307qq3.jpg

 

 

Maybe a certain amount of insult
Is needed, to stoke benumbed pride

Maybe a certain amount of pain
Is necessary, to provoke healing, inside

To induce renervation, to restore circulation
Maybe, it’s unavoidable, injury

To make your mind open, through the fog,
Tentatively, once again, to see

That’s what it took
And it doesn’t matter, if
That’s what it takes

I am finally awake.

‘Coma’

(c)CM
11.11.2016

Anorexia 

Anorexia 

Thought starvation, for a period of time
Doesn’t do me any good
The pathology’s the same, like the stomach
The brain too needs its food
Denied a victim, the gastric acid
Into its own walls leaks
-similarly, a concentrated vitriol
An empty mind keeps

Atrophied ideas, dessicated hope
But what’s a hungry girl to do?
When muddied flirtations blend into one another
Faded bruises written black and blue
When nausea becomes a sentient sensation
When you’ve cauterized your heart with self wrought ablation
What’s a girl to do?

I thought too much, now I want to be thin
Your beauty’s enough for both of us, who
Cares about my within
I’ll be like you, just words and skin
Hollow cheeked and empty eyed,
But it’ll do
Hungry, but
Just
Like
You

© CM
21.10.2016

I learnt that being hungry for love is nothing compared to being hungry for respect.  There are some things that just strip you of your dignity.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this small. I think I need to take a break from everything. I might be offline for a few days.
My love to all of you,

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