A broken heart has brought me here.

I lie, vulnerable and small, on an operating table.

My sternum has been sawed in half – 

My ribs are spread open, leaving me exposed.

My cold body is being kept alive by machines.  

I am four years old.

I will be patched up,

“A repair”, they call it.

I will never be healed but I will survive.

My scars will forever tell the story.


Why are you so sad?

Is it because she doesn’t love you?

That doesn’t sound so bad.

If she can’t see who you are,

then she’s the one who should be sad;

if either of you should be sad at all.

Worry not,

for I see all the good in you.

Your eyes are big and bright,

and your heart is too.

Whatever does she think is wrong with you?

I’ve been trying to find a flaw,

but you have so few.

I guess what I’m trying to say is…

If she doesn’t love you,

it doesn’t matter because I do.


Your skin

Carries a record

Of everything you’ve ever done

Of everywhere you’ve ever been

Of every time you’ve cried

Of every time you’ve smiled

Your skin

Can tell the world so much

About who you are

About where you’ve been

About battles you’ve fought

About battles you’ve won

The desire

To remove these signs

To hide this record from the world

To keep it a secret

To keep it hidden

To never age

Is a strange one to me

To hide

What has made you who you are

All the laughter

All the tears

All the frowns

All the years

Is to hide yourself from the world

I hope

That when lines first appear on my face

And I am tempted to remove them

I will remember

They are there to tell my story

And I will treasure every one

And the memories it hints at

Until my face is a library

Of all the things I’ve ever done.


I wish I could live in a world without lies
not because I only want the truth
but because it’d lead to a thick skins

And I wish I could be honest
Admit that I have felt rejection
Tell them it was a secret part of my upbringing

I wish I could write
The way the roadrunner runs
Not invincible
Just certain

I wish I could be Multiple Man
Just so I could watch myself perform
And damn the multiple personality disorder side-effect

I wish I could be a rainbow
Dazzling and unattainable
Except not at all

I want to be attainable
I want to be successful
I want a lot of things

I want to take this poem
and my life
in a different direction

Hell, I want to take my life in several different directions
I want to take all the possible roads
Even the one behind me

But most of all
I want to be able to be honest without judgement


I sat beside you and heard your whole story,

And all I felt was sad, at the way your heart broken.

It reminded me of my broken heart and,

All the dreams that still remain broken.

I look around me and then realise,

That we both are not alone.

Around us, there are many hearts broken.

That everyone has a story untold and sometimes unheard.

I don’t know how, but in some way,

We are all connected.

Everyone at some point of time has broken

Or has had his heart broken.

I curse the person who did this to us,

All I wish one day is he realises his fault,

To be loved by someone is beautiful,

And then to be left by the same person is so painful.

A tear falls from my eye,

I wish this heart was never there

And nobody could hurt you and me.

Our dreams would then have never been broken,

And the fear to fall in love again,

Would never have been there.

But life is never what we want it to be,

I think we realised that –

Life will be a series of disasters,

We just have to keep on moving ahead,

A bit shattered, but definately stronger.


We all fall
but falling doesn’t always hurt
we could fall into someone’s arms
we should know we won’t get burnt

Although if we fall down
sadly it will hurt and burn us
we search and we don’t always find
that one who is our shield but we never stop looking

In the end we will all have ended the search
no matter the ending we will be happy
when we reach the gates we’ll see
the one who is our love

We won’t get burnt and we will find
we could fall into ones arms
we’ll fall and not get hurt
but remember we all fall.


soft, touching my skin with your lips
slowly, slowly.
Looking in your eyes and knowing you
kissing, tasting
Holding my gaze
tingling skin
deep breathing
I’ll love you forever.
In a memory, you’ll know me still
in a memory
you still remember my smell
I still whisper in your ear
We are eternally souls
We are together forever
I’ll love you forever
I’ll love you forever.


There’s a story inside me

Story I need to tell

But I’m not sure 

what the story is?

I see a girl

with a hat

leaning on a tree.

Her eyes in the shadow

her red lips smiling.

It’s summer

Wind is blowing

It’s starting to rain.

There’s a wet feeling

on her light skin.

She’s still smiling. 

You can smell the rain

the grass, the flowers.

And hear the river nearby.

To be continued.

Her Cigarette Kiss

I lose you for a moment
as you exhale slowly, smoke
rising lazily from your
lips and obscuring your features.

You offer me your cigarette,
your finger covering the
head of the little blue
camel who sits in a
desert of burning white paper.

I accept, making sure not
to bother the camel with
my fingers, and take a long
drag, closing my eyes as smoke
and chemicals seep through me.

I exhale, and my eyelids
flutter open and take in
the sight of you standing
beneath the stars.

Your eyes smolder as you reach
for my hips and pull me close,
the cigarette still burning
steadily between my fingers.

You don’t speak, but your kiss speaks
for you.
I love you, it says.
I love you too, I reply.

When you finally pull away,
the taste of you lingers, sharp
and sweet and unquestionably

As I bring the cigarette
back to my lips, I see that
the blue camel’s feet have burned
away, and I laugh.

You don’t even ask what’s so
funny. You just laugh with me
as our little blue camel burns.


He liked his coffee
Black. Plain. Pure and simple.
No frills. No messes.
No sugar or cream.
No flavored syrups,
Void of any espresso shots
Just black and plain
And scalding to the tongue
And lips
Much like his temper and self
Fiery and gawky
Simple, yet true.
She liked her coffee
Café au lait. Café mocha. Two percent. Two packs of sugar. Follow them too a tee.
Complex and confusing.
Extra foam. Extra chocolate. Whipped cream please. Double shot, if you may.
Slightly warm. Not too hot.
Just like the autumn sun.
Confusing. Complex.
And demanding.
Much like her being.
He had met her one fair summer day
The scent of coffee marring her hair
The taste of Arabica on his lips. He asked—
That complex, tall order of café au lait.
With a double shot, extra foam, slightly warm, two percent, two sugar packs, and an extra shot of chocolate. Top it off with whipped cream.
To be his.
She smiled. She tasted and loved
The scalding hot, plain and simple, slightly irritable order of drip coffee
That was he.