Making Poetry Together.

:Throwback series: December of 2015.

Let us make poetry together.
Let us drop letters at each other’s apartments and have a rendezvous in a dark alley.
Let us meet there with pens and papers.

Let us kiss first. One alphabet at a time.
Let us kiss each alphabet of our names before we start undressing each other layer after layer.
Then let us take a moment to breathe.
Let us wait for our hearts to calm down.
For the pounding to get back to the normal and then let us again look at each other.

Let us scribble the first word on the paper.
I scribble my word on yours and you on mine.
Let us soak that word with our lips.
Let the adrenaline take over.
Let another word out. And then another.
Let us exchange the papers now.
Take another moment. Let the words sink in.
Let the lips meet the words and let the paper soak.
A stanza has been created.

Now there is more urge.
An urge to know and explore.
To undress and to uncover.
Let us look back at each other and start again.
This time a little harder and rampant.
A little brutal and a little wild.
The pounding of the heart is audible now.
The words feel wet. There is drive and passion.
The hands move a little faster and the fingers press a little harder.
The paper is scorching now. Almost perspiring. Out of breath, we stop.
Let us allow ourselves a small laugh. Like a cackle and let us get back to kissing. We just have not had enough.

But we are naked now.
All the words have been poured out.
They lie in chaos.
Let our eyes meet each other’s.
Let us take in the silent approval and grab the paper.
Let us become cannibals now.
Cut the body and eat the flesh.
Quench the thirst with the blood.
Let each vein rip and let the blood splash out.
Let it cover our faces and let us not stop till it is over.
Let us not stop till every feeling has been rinsed out of the heart.
Let us not stop till our pens become ink-less.

Now let us look at each other’s art.
Every sensation penned down on that blooded paper.
Let the adrenaline reside.
Let the satisfaction call it a night.
Now let us gaze back at each other and let our lips meet.
Let the poetry we made together come to life.

Picture Caption: Dark alleys, made less darker and more beautiful with lovers in embrace,

With words and love-song daze.

Window.

The day my love walked into my life
I had opened the window to let love in.
It was Autumn, and outside my window
the sun was blazing in a bright orange hue or
was it the orange tint of the dried leaves?
I do not remember.
The little bird perched high up on the tree
was still idling around
because winter seemed so far way.
My father was out shopping groceries.
My mother was busy in her daily chores.
And my sister was, even at that time, struggling to keep together her marriage.

On such a day I let my love walk in.
Love was, umm, every beautiful thing I had ever seen?
No.
Love was sweaty from the autumn heat and humidity.
Love wore a shirt that clung to love’s body drawing the outline of love’s underclothes.
Love was constantly fidgeting with love’s hair
and frantically taking down notes on Hamlet:
“To be or not to be”,
and in my head
“To love or not to love”
Love had to rush home after class because of traffic.
Love had no time for casual flirting.
Love was so easily annoyed at teasing.
Love was, I hate to say it, boring.

But to me,
Love had twinkling eyes.
Love had unkempt hair.
Love read fancy books.
Love had cute little spacing between love’s teeth.
Love was tall.
Love was beautiful.
Love was punctual.

Love was not perfect but on that day love decided to become mine.
Love agreed to me.
Love responded to my texts.
Love wanted me.
Love accepted me.
And in that moment Love became my life.

Suddenly, Love was laughter
the sun was brighter
Love was shelter, a forever home
Love was a throbbing, pumping comfort bubble
A paradise like a mother’s womb.
Love was foolish, love was chirpy
Love was every happy emotion there can be.

And then….
Time passed
Love grew.

The twinkle in love’s eyes was water from the undetected hyperopia.
The fidgeting with the hair was from being jittery.
The fancy books came with an obsession for knowledge.
Love was so much taller than me that when love wrapped love’s arms around,
I felt intimidated.
Love was so beautiful that I became invisible.
Love did not like flirting because love had no time.
Love was punctual because love’s whole life was a race against time.

Love was a wreck. My home was a wreck.
Love was me.
A home cannot be a wreck.
My home was me.

The day my love left
I forgot to latch the window to keep love in
It was summer but the sky was misty with a grey hue
from all the gloom or the pollution?
I do not remember.
The little bird no longer lived there
on that dry, dehydrated tree.
My father was out shopping groceries, just a little withered.
My mother was busy in her daily chores, just a little slower.
And my sister had no marriage to keep together any longer.

On such a day my love decided to walk out.
Love leaving was, umm, every empty feeling I had ever imagined?
No.
Love left but the sun still rose and there was a queue in the bank
and it was hot and humid and I was sweating and my heart was aching
and I had to deposit my monthly cheque and I had no longer the need to save money
for birthdays and theatres and movies and dates and my assignments were lying on my desk and I had no heart to write about Bojack Horseman on my weekly review because I was a Diane I did not know how I felt any longer about anything. I was tired and miserable and God why does every bad thing ever happen to me?

I rush back home and yes, love leaving is every empty feeling ever.
Love was strange and weird and jittery and spectacled,
Love was too tall and too beautiful and too boring,
but love was love, my love and now love has left and gone,
and I forgot to latch the window.
I LEFT THE WINDOW OPEN.

And love left, tiptoed.
Love didn’t even fight it, fight me.
Love took the window.
The window through which love had walked in.

I SHOULD HAVE JUST CLOSED THE WINDOW.
I should have just let us stay in.
And now I leave my window open
unlatched
unforgotten
Hoping for love to walk back in.