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Saturday, 1 June 2024

#60 Old writings to remember.

 1. You were the one who taught me that the evening sky almost never repeats the hues it colours the world in, and yet here you are wondering how I still find words to write about you after so long.

2. There is this image of you etched in my mind, of you looking into my eyes with a resolve to remind me of the possibilities of love, pure and passionate, taking birth in the most surreal of situations, with not as much as a word exchanged but every feeling conveyed, and giving me hope for better tomorrows, me by you, for eternities to come.

3. So many new faces registered, and as many easily forgotten, voices that stole my breath that later got on my nerves, so many words exchanged without an ounce of conviction, love, learned and regretted, hearts, healed and tossed away, and yet every time someone tells me that I deserve better, I still think of you.

4. You seek to bury your feelings deep within you, and pretend like it never existed, but darling, every time you hear my voice I have seen how your eyes sift through crowds to find me.

5. Though far enough to not be able to reach me at times when I need to be held, you are close enough for me to hear you in my head, humming my favourite tunes, and every so often now I catch myself wondering if this is what those poets before me meant when they wrote about love.

6. Broken smiles exchanged, goodbyes that went untold, eyes that took in every bit of you that they could hold, and hands that craved to reach out for you, but stayed dead; one moment my world was spinning around you, and in the very next it seized to exist.

7. I tell you how I adore the evening sky, its soft colours, and the hushed goodbyes left on tiny stars, the ever present darkness, and the hope of new light, the winds humming all our favourite tunes in our ears, and the world enveloped in the scent of a thousand lilies; and you tell me how all this reminds you of us, and how you have come to love me the same way.

8. The evening sun dipping across the horizon, warm breeze ruffling my hair, a small smile threatening to break out on my face as I take in the surroundings, living that moment over and over in my mind when everything made sense for the first time; that you are the only colour I need to paint this world in hues of love.

9. I search for answers in the depths of the sea, above the clouds, and I scour the surface of earth, but it only leaves me with more questions than I began with, and now I also ask myself why I'm here, instead of just who I am, and where do I go instead of where I came from, yet no answers seem to come to me; but I will keep trying, until the clouds pass over and the sun shines bright on me again; I won't stop.

10. Repetitive, monotonous days spent revisiting the same unreliable dream which is all I want to see turning into reality; dreamcatchers hung, wishes spent on shooting stars, but nothing paid back the way resilience did; if you seek to achieve, remember to keep the desire burning, and a steely ardour blooming within you.

11. These midsummer rains, with the sun shining and the clouds pouring, bring about a sense of loss deeper and harsher than that I fathomed the sky was capable of inflicting, making me feel as if the rains were here early to take away what memories I have left of the chaos that I hid myself within, the hurt that I shied away from embracing, and you whom I loved too much.

12. I remember how I revered you, put you on a pedestal and refused to see you for who you are; I coloured over all your faded edges, and made sure the moon shone on you right, but baby, I'm sorry for never letting you talk me out of love, for trying to make everything better, for not understanding that sometimes people want to stay broken, for being whole is an alien feeling to them that they would rather never know of.

13. Daisies, white, fragile and fragrant, hidden behind a veil of green, untouched by the harshness of sun, but a drop of dew glistening on its silken petal catches my eye, and I turn to take in the view and lose myself, and as reality and past merge into one I lose all sense of time, and finally feel like I have found the truth about beauty.

14. Amidst the glow of a hundred fireflies I realised that life isn't just about phasing from dusk to dawn, waiting for the light to come back, it's about finding a source of light to beat the darkness.

15. Cold breeze rushes in to greet me, ruffling my hair with such love, I almost smile, I breathe in the faint smell of daisies and a sense of nostalgia takes over me, with the moon shining through the clouds, while these stars compete to outshine her, and at this late hour, here in this moment, I feel alive again for the first time in a while.

16. I have always worried that the world would one day drain all the kindness right out of me without ever giving it back, but now I have realised that the true strength is ones ability to be kind without expecting it in return.

17. The very thought of sitting under a canopy on a sunny day, watching the clouds float aimlessly above me, sends chills down my spine, taking me back in time when things were simpler, everything was better; when home was just a place, and every time I longed for it, I could just find my way back.

18. It was when I noticed the way these silences echo in your absence, or the way the moon seems faded around the edges, that I realised I don't like the world without you in it.

19. Every time I miss you now, it's in the way you would miss the sun on the second day of winter; with a sense of fondness, not out of necessity.

20. I sat by you, under the starry sky, admiring the subtle beauty of the night and of the full moon, and at that very moment a star must have fallen somewhere because when I turned to face you, you were already smiling at me.

21. The strings of crystals I had hung by the window swayed a little to the tune of the breeze, breaking me from the spell of my daydream, and bringing me back to the bittersweet reality. The wind grew stronger; the crystals caught the wind, interlaced, and struggled to move, to go free. Before I could close the window, a gust of wind brought down the strings and with them came the crystals; falling to the ground, breaking to bits. I had always associated those crystals with my dreams; beautiful and fragile, and in that moment, I was surer than ever.

22. While everyone out there is trying to put each other in chains in the name of love, here you are, painting the sky blue, and mending my broken wings, so I can fly like I was destined to. And you say you will sit in the front yard when dawn breaks, every day, to watch me soar the sky, and explore the world, until dusk paints the world in dark hues. And then, I know, you will hold me in your arms through the night, singing me to sleep, letting me dream of new heights. This was how I always wanted to be loved, and that is why I say it's not you, no; but it's the way you love me.

23. She looked at the sky and smiled, and I wondered what she saw there that kept her so engrossed the way I found myself charmed by the shine of her brown eyes. The sky lit up at that moment, a bolt of lightning cut through the sky, reaching for the ground, and she laughed; her laughter resonating in my ears like the sound of thunder. The moment it began to rain, her eyes transformed into a garden of flowers prettier than any I had seen, and at that moment she turned to me to say she loved me as she loved the rain.

24. She is so much like the blue sky and her soul, like the clouds masking the summer sun. She smiles, and brings a silver lining to every cloud out there. Sunny and vibrant, her heart is guarded by stars at night. Even when it thunders, and bolts of lightning split the sky apart, her beauty overshadows the terrors of the forthcoming storm. She is terrifying, she is beautiful, but above all, she is all the broken dreams put together, and made real.

25. I am not here to choose the parts of you that are easy to love, and love them. I am here to love you for who you are, the way you are. There is nothing in this world that could alter my love for you, not even if you tried your best. Because I believe that if I can't accept you for what you are, then I don't deserve the vast ocean of love that is waiting to be discovered within you. So let me love all of you as best as I can, and I will show you not every love makes you vulnerable. A few will make you stronger than you ever fathomed of being.

26. He wanted to bring her flowers from the garden, but she wears the stars in her hair. He wanted to bring her diamonds from the mines, but she wears the moon in her neck. He wanted to paint her shadow on a canvas, but she has the entire sky to see herself. He wanted to love her and keep her in his heart, but she belonged so much to herself she couldn't be contained elsewhere.

27. The wind blows out The candles alight, The moonless sky; So enchanting tonight. We stand closer as Moments pass by, Darkness engulfs us A smile catches my eye. You pull me closer We dance to the tune Of your heartbeat I lose to you so soon. When I look up again The moon is long gone, And in your eyes I witness The breaking of a new dawn.

28. I write one star worth of things but I feel the entire sky worth of love for you.

29. Have you seen how I love flowers, but from a distance revelling in their beauty without plucking them or causing them any harm? That is how my heart wants to be loved; without being pulled away from its roots, without the fear of being tossed away. So all you need to do, is to let my heart bloom in the warmth of your love.

30. I catch myself smiling at the stars some days, thinking of all the silly names you always seemed to have kept ready for every star I asked you about, and every constellation, and it feels like the sky turns a tad heavier when I see how oblivious you have become to the very things that we once learned to love together.

©SHWETHA.BHAT

Wednesday, 25 April 2018

#59 Why I write.

I get asked a lot about my writings, about what inspires me and what feeds my mind with the thoughts that I let flow onto the paper. Truth be told, I don't have a cool story to tell, about a special someone whose breaking my heart made me start writing, like most of the writers on Instagram these days do. I started writing way before the malicious claw of love, or the lack thereof, took hold of my thoughts; before I had even learned about love, even. It was the intricacy of nature that surrounded me then that helped me write. I was a much keener observer back then than I am now. I might even admit, rather begrudgingly, that my poems from high school had more depth in them than the ones I write now. There was a phase when I was drawn towards writing about loss and pain- the dark side of love- when in reality, I was neither hurt nor in pain. I just found it intriguing enough to write about it. But the amount of questions I had coming compelled me to shift back to writing on less darker things. And that's when it hit me, that my writing had somehow become more about the readers than it was about me, and it made me sad. Because, if anything, one's writing is an outlet for one's thoughts. How the reader accepts it is important, yes, but how it leaves you feeling after you have said it... that is what writing for me is all about. I never wrote for anyone more than I did for myself. I might have had many muses for many of my poems, but the only reason behind my writing is my need to let the words out of my head; the reason I write is because I love writing. And that is how it will always be for me.
©Shwetha.

Friday, 6 April 2018

#58 When it's love...

Lucky.

You know it's love when he makes that annoying slurpy noise when he's eating and all you can think of is how you could fall asleep to that sound. You know it's love when he yawns in your face, and you start laughing while trying not to pass out. You know it's love when you kiss him good night and his head smells like milk, and you close your eyes and savour the moment. You know it's love when he pulls things down and when someone scolds him, looks at you for support because he knows that you will always side with him. You know it's love when he comes running to you when he is scared of the thunder, and lets you hold him. You know it's love when he comes before everyone else for you, even yourself. And that's how I know.

I love the way his big brown eyes always seem to be in search of something to do; I love how he gets into trouble, pulls a puppy face and somehow gets away with it; I love running my fingers through his fur absentmindedly and the way his fur feels against my hand; I love how he annoys me with his barks and how I start missing it when he stops; I love that he listens to me sometimes which is still a lot more than he listens to anybody else. I love how he taught me that unconditional love is the best kind of love. It's been six years since he came home, and ever since he has been the string keeping me close to home even when I'm away.

It's a rare thing but sometimes you just know when it's love, and it's the most wonderful feeling ever.

Sunday, 18 March 2018

#56 the art of love.

It's never actually the big things that take grip of you and shout in your face that you're in love. No. It's the little things, the insignificant things done out of boredom, with a sense of mischief, that will come back to you and startle you with a rather wild knock.
It's those random moments where I'm caught off guard thinking about you; those times when, in the middle of a conversation, you abruptly pause to tell me that you love my voice; or when I realise I'm smiling reminiscing something you said long ago; it's these little things that make me love you more everyday.
- shwethabhat /art of love/

Sunday, 11 March 2018

#55 you.

I sit on the roof, watching
the vast expanse of a sky
glittered with stars, with
the breeze tickling my neck;
and for a while it's like
I'm lost in the moment,
with only one thing
on my mind even when
there seems to be none,
and it's you.
It's always you.
- shwethabhat /you/

Thursday, 8 March 2018

#54 The strength in letting go.

Every time we went out into the woods, I would watch him lose sight of everything else and focus on the things that spoke to him. He would capture the most beautiful pictures, and he always had a reason behind each photograph he took.
When he told me I was ready, and asked me to take photographs of the things I found beautiful, I smiled. I picked up a fallen dandelion and took a picture. He laughed, and asked me what beauty I saw in a dead flower whose seeds were long blown away. Without looking up from the flower, I sighed. "How hard must it be for the flower to part with its seeds, and yet it does so every time. These dandelions taught me to let go of things when it's time, no matter how hard it seems. They taught me the solace you find after letting go; and that, to me, is beautiful."
- shwethabhat /let go/

Monday, 5 March 2018

#53 Survival.

He created a map of trails
with every one of his touches.
She left him poisoned with love,
and she was the only antidote.
They were like the sky and the sea;
every time they met, the world
watched, wild with excitement.
They were so right together,
it was almost too good to last.
But some stories do survive
against all odds, because love
seeks strength in hope;
and that they had in abundance.
- shwethabhat /Survival/

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