Serendipity

brother

i wish that girl from your childhood days comes back to slip her hand into yours again. and you could slip your secret love letter into her pocket.

when your heart breaks, so does mine. 

coffee

of course
it has always been you

acrid
treacherous
malicious
severe

but mine
over and over again

Dear heart,
Have I neglected you enough for now? Why is it that you always forgive me and allow me to let you suffer all over again? The day I return to you next, you should turn me away and tell me the only way I may stay is when I learn to nurture you.
Madovermyneglectofyou,
P

of love and will

all my life
i have seen
love
trapped
in picture frames
teddy bears
old books
telephone sets
mirrors
bottles of perfume

but when life puts love to test
and love tries to redeem itself
from
notes scribbled in haste
with words failing
their expressions,
you know love
is what they call free-will
coming and going of its own volition
-fragmenting you

nowadays,

i do not dream of writing anything sensible. i have stopped making sense even to myself. i dream of writing about wonderful things but always end up sitting at cafes, drinking too much coffee and falling asleep after i have emptied a couple of cups.
i plan everyday, to eat healthy and end up binge eating before bedtime. i can't stop.
this is not who i wanted to become. who have i become?

coffeeeee

the world is like coffee
bittersweet
bittersweet

conceal

it takes a lot of courage to hide. to keep these thoughts hidden from the world.
and to keep my feelings buried under the spades and spades of anger you fling my way.

nothingness

coffee is at it's worst today.

the first one i asked for was called 'fresh beans' on the menu. but it turned out to be nescafe stirred into hot water, when it arrived on my table.

a second cup got ordered. this time americano. and trust me it tastes worse than the most bitter moments of heartbreak. i'm drinking it anyway. i am used to bitterness of these sorts. maybe they have become the residue that lines my heart, protecting it against the smaller heartbreaks. for, major heartbreaks you can survive. it is the smaller ones that change you. major heartbreaks leave you without a soul, so there's nothing to worry about preserving, after that. smaller ones eat you away. 

anyway.

the afternoon is beautiful. the sky looks like it's preparing for autumn, with just patches of shiny cumulus clouds. the wind is just right in Kathmandu today. 

and i, who has nothing to do-- i just sit here, watching the world in its busy hour, pass me by.

the lovers are still at their table- on the same side of the table. the business meeting goes on across the aisle. the man looks up at me from the meeting. he never stops shouting into his phone during the meeting. 

kutumba still plays. not my favourite music for the occasion. but they play.

just another day of doing nothing and i'm here-- doing nothing.

remove

sometimes
it is this detachment that i am looking for.
the world becomes just another person standing outside my threshold.
i decide whether to let it in or to let it keep standing, where it is now.
i want the world to pass me by just like this.
me here.
the world out there.
and maybe my breath will slowly seep out of me 

another morning, filled with hope

perhaps

today
will be spared
of the rage
that always
turns us into adults

let's turn back time

double shot espresso

you became
the heaviness
under my pupils
last night

as we
tormented
each other

pressing into memory
only things
that
fragment moments

(we've survived this before)

our own mesh

how did love become so tangled when it's foundation was laid on wide open streets that ran right ahead of us as far as our eyes could see? you talked about your deity. it was a warm summer's day. you walked like you wanted to sprint to where the heart leads us sometimes- to those unknown zones where we melt into babies. i tried to keep up with you, elated i had found friendship that came to me with no conditions. nothing mattered.

i didn't care i was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a tee that hung too close to my cleavage. you were this friend who was sexless to me. you felt like an old friend, who'd come back to listen to me. and it's all i wanted. for us to listen to each other. walk. 

i wasn't going to touch you. kiss you. i wasn't. we were only going to walk. and wait for the years when life would bring us back together, throw us apart again. it was all we were going to do-- wait.

a friend once told me unrequited love is better because it can be survived in a way love that is requited and lost, cannot. 

some days make me wish you'd never found me again. i could have spent my life in longing and still known what it is like when you slip your fingers into mine and gaze into my eyes. 

You, again

a longing stirs in me
to sit you by the window
and watch the sea
slap at the rocks
while i lock my fingers into yours

maybe my skin could read the characters
etched on your fingers

what of
my land
and your sea
that refuse to
move into one another

my little pit

and she tells me tears are good
that
straying
is a way of finding your way back home

banter

my memory is in fragments these days. i remember scenes from soaps i half-listened to, as my sister watched them on the tv set that stands in the midst of a pool of cables in my room. i remember that in one of them, there was a girl who became everything she never hoped to. and i remember how she ended up so afraid of life.   

your eyes

how can it be true
that i didn't dream
the colour of your eyes,
when all i know
of my waking hours
is what flutters
behind that iris?