Sometimes

Sometimes,
I wish I could believe,
instead of wanting to know.

Sometimes,
I wish I could let go,
instead of being weighed down.

Sometimes,
I wish I could simply laugh,
instead of having to smile.

Sometimes,
I wish my day had a little bit more,
than just twenty four!

The curse

6:30 a.m   She stood by the stove, thinking how much she enjoyed mornings. He was still warm from the bed, kind of fuzzy and had his head buried in her hair between her shoulder and ear. She was watching the milk, so that it wouldnt boil over.   She was watching the clock and running the laundry. The fool of a man had left the clothes once again in the bathroom. Like father; like daughter.. Idiots - both of them. She would once again be late for the day. Why in the world couldnt they pick up their clothes behind them?!   7:00 a.m They sat on the dining table, sipping their respective mugs of coffee and drinking chocolate and browsing the news paper. He liked his coffee piping hot, while she liked hers just before it turned cold.   Time was running out. That girl was yet to get out of bed. He had happily left to work, without waking her up. Now, everything was piling up on her plate. "Wake up, will you?? It is already seven. Hey- Isn't it tuesday? Your science assignment was due today, no?? GET UP, damn it..."   7:30 a.m She went into the kitchen to whip up a quick lunch for both of them and asked him to press her uniform. "Get me another cup of coffee, no?" She wondered how anybody could drink that stuff!   "You! Stop star gazing and day dreaming. It is 7: 30. I am already late. Have you finished your science assignment? Here is your milk. What? You are going to brush your teeth only now? Lazy fool! Why do you specifically do things that irritate me? Act fast. How many times should I tell you? Cant you understand what I am talking?! Or should I talk in some other language?!"   8:00 a.m She was ready to leave. He came out of the shower and wondered how she could look so sexy in a masculine industry uniform. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. "hmmm.. No, honey -  not now... Nope. Getting late. Come back early from office, ok?" She wriggled out of his grip and gave him a touch me not kiss.   "Idiot. Cant you for heaven's sake understand what I am saying? You were born to test my patience. One day or the other, I am going to lose my temper and brand you with a hot iron..."   They stood hand in hand listening to the incessant yelling next door. They wondered why that woman had the child in the first place.   She was going mad between her husband and girl. And to top it all, she had to hear all the love talk next door. She cursed them, wishing they had a child to deal with...

Loss

Do you know about loss? It comes in various forms - the silence that responds when you call out familiar names, all the conversations you can have only in your imagination the nearly sterile way in which things never move out of their place, except by you.

It looks like mexico

It looks like Mexico city,
All colors bright and sunny.
You ask - how would you know?
You have never visited the place!

I say - I could,
for my mind has been there!

knowing.

She had avidly followed his writings for more than five years. Had waited for every single post and poem. Had imagined the sound of his voice, the tone of his skin, his weight and book shelves and music racks and his guitar. His evenings with a lonely glass of whisky - and some times not so lonely bottles of IPAs. His walk to the university office and his laptop and his ipod. When she heard his voice for the first time, it was a teeny bit of a disappointment. He did not sound quite the husky, pleasant, unattainable imaginary character, she had envisioned.

Then came the book. She would not read it. She did not want to know his name. As she was picking up a gift for her husband, she asked for it, half hoping that such a vague first time author name would not be there on the shelves. As she read through the foreword, she knew - that it was no pseudonym. That was his name...

a new found love.

A card.
A kiss.
An endless wait.
I keep searching
for patience. . .

When it comes to me...

Funny - how perspectives change when it is my own pain. What would I prove by having a biological baby? - That I am capable of reproducing? What if I am not interested? After all - it upsets my career, it would stop me from dancing, it would mean at least two years of sleepless nights and tons of hard work, trying to bring up a child with a modicum of what I consider decency and moral uprightness and fun.

But, I know that I would completely enjoy the work that it entails. Why is it so hard to bring up another's child with all my love? Why is it so very hard to love another person? When will my heart overcome my mind? And I wait endlessly.

broken

Numerous plants. A wonderful house. A hundred thousand memories. Broken in a span of three days. My home no longer exists.