OLD CONVERSATIONS

Old conversations-
Those crevices and sharp edges 

meaningless words and small talk,

incomplete questions -

roaring oceans of emotions narrowed down to a few drops.

Wanting to let it all out-

let the ink flow and flow

till we have a beautiful portrait.

What holds back our words?

Flowers withered away before blooming.

Old conversations-

why do they hold different meanings

for each soul that reads them;

we see our faults 

in the shadow of others.

Where did we lose?

Too scared- of all the world

and of ourselves; too lost.

Old letters- the ones

we started writing 

but tore up and burnt away

scared of losing an imaginary future.

Each line,

each song and piece of poem

hidden under a pretentious veil of soulless words

as we stutter- what to say next,

acting out an unrehearsed scene

voices falter every now and then.

Old conversations- put them away,

leave them at their grave

because now we dance at their death,

silences stretched apart,

we celebrate their doom

because we will never know where they started

or how they ended,

so now, we smile at their sleep.

 

YESTERDAY

Regret? Or no regret?

A powerful emotion-

It is the sourness that fills your mouth,

The silence that chokes you, leaves you gasping for breath,

That empty feeling of fullness

Wanting to start, never wanting to end

Or if ended never wanting to understand.

All the time that flew away

Are the withered leaves that we let fall

But we haven’t yet lost the tomorrows 

And it is never too late to start.

We haven’t lost these moments that we take

To pause in our tracks

To look at our own broken reflections

Screaming inside;

Smiles etched on our masks.

The only light I see

At the end of this never-ending spiral

Is a little thread of thought –

Your yesterdays do not define your next days;

Your crumbled wings do not define your strength

You don’t need the ghosts of your past

To find yourself.

ALL OF THEM

Nothing.

I don't regret anything.

Not the tears, or the fears.

The uncertainty- complete in its purity

the crumbling words that fear the worst

left an impression

so deep the expression

but the fire that burnt never got hurt.

So,

All the night flowers

All the screams choked on silence

All the crushed wings, dull smiles, and lifeless eyes

All the lights that burn low,

All the disrupted symphonies

and burnt up books

All the dewdrops and snowflakes

crumbled beneath heavy footsteps.

One moment-

Oblivious of the past, unmindful of the future,

our hands tightly wound over the reins of a single moment of the present,

We sail- all of us; we conquer.